Junkie - Season Two
by yodasbitch
Summary: Cooking meth isn't exactly a positive asset to a serious relationship. In fact it provides almost everything that you wouldn't want in one; stress, fear, anger danger – the list goes on and on. But strangely enough, things seem to be working out fine for Charlie and Jesse.
1. Seven Thirty-Seven

**'****Seven Thirty-Seven'**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Breaking Bad or any of it's content; I only own Charlie and her side of the story. **

The 'Dog House' electrical sign lit up the picnic bench where a couple sat, one of them with a tray of food in front of him and the other rubbing her red nose. The smaller figure, female and obviously very anxious, sniffled several times and scratched at the back of her hand. Although their current mission was to avoid being suspicious in any way, the two figured that compared to every single other person surrounding the establishment; they were least to be suspected of criminal activity. Slowly, Jesse shifted his tray table back to expose a wad of cash, tied together and ready to go for the large African-American gentleman heading his way. The man picked up the cash, walking towards a beaten down Toyota and climbing inside. After several more seconds, a tall white male emerged with a white paper bag and placed it beside Jesse's tray table, veering in a different direction towards a Dodge colt and speeding away. The Toyota did the same after Jesse had glanced inside the bag and nodded once. Jesse tucked the white paper parcel into his large pocket, leaving his unfinished fries and wrapping a hand around his girlfriend. The two set a brisk pace away from the diner, hoping that no one had grown suspicious of the exchange and had decided to tail them. After several moments of silence, Charlie figured it was safe enough and let out a long breath.

"Jesus," She muttered, scratching her forehead. Buying the gun meant several things, one of which was protection and the other was serious injury. It was a heavy subject even for her, who had dealt with guns in her father's household before.

"I know," Jesse blinked a couple times, as if to snap himself out of it. He could feel the weight of the gun that they had just purchased still in his pocket, weighing down not only his jacket but his thoughts as well. He had never used a gun before, and the only experience he had with rifles was when his father had taken him hunting one summer in the sixth grade. But nonetheless, he figured that owning one would have made a good investment at one point or another, because he had grown suspicious that Tuco's thugs had begun to stalk him. It made the most logical sense that after the dream team had watched Tuco beat his henchman to death, they would be his next targets. They _did _make very pure product for the gangster, but nevertheless they were loose ends. And Jesse didn't want himself, Charlie, or Mr. White for that matter, on the opposite end of the barrel when the time came.

Small signs of Tuco had been everywhere; cars taking off as soon as Jesse had laid eyes on them, large men eyeing him up in the Latino areas of town where they usually left him alone, phone calls with dead air and noises that he didn't think were natural to hear in the middle of the night. On top of all that (and the added stress of having to produce 4 pounds of methamphetamine in a beaten down RV every week) Charlie had mentioned to him several times that large intimidating men had come up to her during her work hours, asking for a lighter and occasionally, a cigarette. It infuriated Jesse that Tuco's thugs would dare come near the only thing that was worth anything to him anymore, but he felt helpless as he watched her travel to work each morning knowing that he couldn't do anything to stop it. Charlie had assured him, trying to convince her panic-stricken boyfriend that the men had paid her back for the cigarettes and had never been anything but friendly to her. Still, he found his stomach twisting in knots each morning that she left. Something wasn't right.

**|:|**

The next afternoon, Mr. White took the time to visit the two in their humble abode and additionally took the chance to lecture Jesse about his rash actions. Whilst Charlie cooked – she had gotten into the habit of trying out new recipes on Mr. White to keep him well nourished while he visited – the two boys sat at the kitchen island arguing intently.

"Oh, we are dead," Jesse ranted, pacing back and forth as he explained his musings to a frustrated Mr. White. "Dead, man! Muerto! Ormuerte! However the hell you -"

"This is conjecture." The older man stated.

"This is conjecture?"

"Yes. And conjecture isn't helping."

"Oh, my conjecture isn't helping?!" Jesse raged. There was a hiss of oil as Charlie poured the yellow liquid onto the chicken in the pan. The bread and salad had been prepared, waiting for the chicken to be placed into them and rolled into fresh lunch.

"Fine," Walter demanded. "Facts then."

"Fact A: My phone rang, like, eight times last night. Dead air, hang-ups, every time," Jesse began to list his observations from the past week. "Second fact: they've been bumming smokes off of my girl at work this entire week! Third fact: like three in the morning we saw that black caddy of his cruising our neighbourhood – no headlights!"

"If he wanted to kill us, he would've done it at the junkyard." Mr. White reasoned, cleaning his glasses on his nicely ironed shirt. Charlie started to roll the cooked wraps into neat cylinders, grabbing two glasses of water and turning off the stovetop.

"What is that?" Jesse exploded once again. "Conjecture? Are you basing that on that he's got a normal, healthy brain or something? Did you not see him beat a dude to death for, like, nothing? And that way that he just kept staring at us, saying, 'You're done.' 'You're done'?! You wanna know what that means? I will tell you what that means. That means exactly how it sounds, yo!"

"All right," Walter raised his hands, trying to calm the boy down.

"We are witnesses," Jesse drew him back in, trying to make him realize the seriousness of the gangster's looming threat over their heads. "We are loose ends. Right now, Tuco's thinking, 'Yeah, hey, they cook good meth, but can I trust them?' What happens when he decides no? Because if his thugs are with Charlie that means he knows about her, man. And I can't afford that!"

There was a beat of silence as Jesse turned around, mumbling the repeated statement and rummaging through the desk drawer. "I can't afford that." He pulled out the recently purchased firearm, slamming it on the table.

"It's him or us!" He howled as Mr. White gave a sharp 'no' of disapproval. "You understand?! It's him or us!"

As soon as there was a moment of silence between the two heavily distracted males, a distinct whimper was heard from behind them. Jesse whipped around to find Charlie gripping the counter, wraps forgotten and tears falling down her face. Immediately his face masked into a mixture of worry and regret, half of which was towards himself for raising his voice and the other half was for not being able to recognize her suffering sooner. The sobs wracked her little body, and Mr. White found himself moving out of the way as Jesse went to embrace the small girl.

"Hey," Jesse muttered, carefully plucking the spatula out of her hands and picking her up to carry her towards the couch on the living room with no struggle whatsoever. "Breathe. I'm gonna go get Po for you, alright? You can sleep."

She clung to him like a wet rag, crying into his shoulder and gripping his shoulders for support. Mr. White opened his mouth as if to say something to the boy that was again approaching the kitchen after having set Charlie down, but he closed it when Jesse dashed past him and scooted upstairs. His old student came back down moments later, clenching his jaw with Po in his hands. It was only after he had wrapped the girl in blankets and given her the Teddy Bear that Jesse ventured back into the kitchen.

"How would you do it?" Mr. White asked after a moment of shock, still adjusting to the way that his two former students ran their household. It was as if Charlie was still a child, occasionally showing traits of adulthood but so emotionally vulnerable and wrapped up in her past that she couldn't take care of herself.

"What do you mean how would I do it?" Jesse tone was different as he leaned on the countertop, mostly due to the lump stuck in his throat. It was clear that he was upset at the discomfort that he had caused Charlie, and fought to keep his voice down for her sake.

"Specifically," Walt clarified, trying to take his mind off the very concerning girl in the other room, who had lapsed into silence and fallen asleep. "How would you do it? Step by step."

"All right," His counterpart suggested, grabbing the weapon and imitating the situation. "Say we set up one last sale. This is providing he doesn't decide to waste us before then. Every time we bring in a new batch, he always tests the product, right? So as his head is down, you know, just giving it a snort – pop, pop, pop!"

"Pop, pop, pop?" Mr. White quoted sarcastically. "So three shots?"

"Three shots…or, I don't know, two." The boy responded nervously. He hadn't thought this through as thoroughly as possible.

"Yeah, but is it two, or is it three?" Walter narrowed his eyes. His intention was not to learn about the attack but to bring Jesse to the realization that he was incapable of performing said task.

"Two would probably work, I guess."

"Two shots in the chest? Or in the face?" Mr. White received a strange look from Jesse. "Come on, I'm just trying to understand how this works."

When Jesse didn't respond, Mr. White made a face. "Alright. We'll put a pin in that. But by now, the big guy – Gonzo – he's probably coming at you, right? So you turn towards him. How many shots for him? He's a big guy, right? How many shots does that take?"

"I don't know," Jesse admitted, running a hand through is hair and estimating. "Three - three shots."

"Okay," Walter played along with the boy's fantasy for the time being. "Three shots. Tuco and Gonzo. Two men down. Now, is there anyone else ther? I mean, Tuco is usually with someone else, right? Maybe even a couple of guys. His dealers; his posse."

His partner declined to respond once more.

"Alright, so we'll put a pin in that one, too." Walter nodded, glad that his plan had worked. "Now, at this point, how many shots have been fired? You've gotta be running low. How many bullets does that gun take?"

He watched Jesse struggle to open the device, and give up after several seconds of the cartridge not opening correctly.

"How can you suggest that we kill a man, and you can't even open the gun? It's not that easy, is it?"

"Hey man," Jesse gave him a sullen look as he sat back down in defeat. "Walt, you did it."

There was another beat of silence as the two were basked in the seriousness of the task.

"Yeah," The older man eventually muttered, tears in his eyes. After several awkward coughs from both of the boys, Walter finally motioned towards the sandwiches. "Is it alright if...?"

Jesse nodded in approval for the unspoken question, both silently agreeing to discuss the matter of the gun in the morning. They ate quietly, both reveling in the simple fact that Charlie's cooking was equal ground in an otherwise more than unpleasant afternoon. No noises besides ones of chewing, swallowing, and occasionally a deep sigh from Charlie – still asleep on the couch – was heard. Eventually Mr. White took his leave, bidding his partner farewell with the promise of contacting him soon.

"Jesse," Mr. White turned at the last minute, worry clouding his features as he remembered the sleepy girl. "I have to ask – are you sure she's alright?"

The kid met his stare, equal and even. "Mr. White, I love that girl more than anything else in the entire world. I'm always gonna help her no matter what – so if she's not alright I'll be there for her like everyone else wasn't."

Thus forward, Walter considered the conversation ended, and said no more on the subject. He turned, ridding his mind of the matter and continuing towards his car with several last waves of his hand. He didn't bother to look back and only sighed in regret once Jesse had shut the door behind him. The minute that the latch was closed, Jesse crept into the room where his girlfriend was still sleeping comfortably.

"Charlie," Jesse's muffled tone woke the rested girl, who yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Charlie, I'm sorry baby."

At this, Charlie blinked several times in confusion before the events came back to her, and she sat up to shake her head at him, a smile taking over her face. Anger was never a trait that Charlie liked to dwell more than a second on, as she couldn't connect to the emotion after everything that her father had pushed upon her. Jesse's tone had been terrifying for her to hear – he rarely used that sort of force when she was around – but she recognized the meaning behind it. His situation was a tough one, and he had every right to be upset and yell as much as his heart desired.

"Come here, you dork," Her grin relieved him, and he accepted her hug with a grin. "It's okay."

"You're okay?" He smiled, clutching her and tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her head.

"I'm okay."

"We're okay?"

"We're okay." She confirmed, laying a kiss on his lips. They both considered it the end of a very long day, and once again, he scooped her up bridal-style and began to walk her towards the kitchen.

"Wait," She whimpered, clutching the chest material of his shirt to stop him. "Po."

He turned around, reaching down and picking up the bear before carrying her into the kitchen and plopping her down on the island. She regarded him with large, curious eyes as he took a bowl out of the cupboards and some leftover soup out of the fridge. Charlie smiled as he mentioned how Mr. White had enjoyed her chicken wraps, and Jesse found himself simply smiling because she was smiling. Soon they were both laughing at each other for smiling for no reason, and dopey laughter flooded the house. They were interrupted by the beeping of the microwave, and soon enough the bowl was placed in Charlie's hands. There was never any pressure to eat when he cooked her meals, but simply the reminder that food was required to live. He was prepared to offer her love and support – the last thing Jesse wanted was to push her away or degrade her. So, with a spoon in hand and her food tapping on the corner of the furniture anxiously, Charlie finished the bowl of soup with a sigh and placed it in the sink.

The two joined hands and retreated to finally finish the very long day.

**|:|**

It was five in the afternoon when Charlie finally rose out of bed the next day. She had faded in and out of sleep whilst Jesse went about his day, listening intently as he and Walter figured ways to eliminate Tuco and eventually landed on the idea of Ricin beans. Eventually her bladder controlled her actions and forced her to rise, also forcing her to look into the mirror and grimace at her appearance. Large bags were being made present, and she decided that it was time to call in sick at work. Every couple of months she would fake an illness to get off several days, pretending that she had been stricken by some sort of rare 72-hour stomach flu and miraculously healed the next day. Gus bought it every time, and no one had grown suspicious about it at _Los Pollos_. She figured everyone had his or her secrets either way, so there was no harm done.

Slipping on one of Jesse's large sweaters and a beanie, she padded downstairs to where Mr. White and Jesse were seated at the table and joined them. Both her and Jesse listened curiously to the phone call taking place, which grew alarming very fast. Walter's D.E.A agent brother-in-law had send him incriminating photos of two murders that had taken place, one of which was No Doze, Tuco's unfortunate henchman, and the other being Gonzo, who had apparently died trying to move the body. As soon as Jesse and Charlie moved to see the photos Mr. White was paling towards, they blanched.

_'__Guess it could be worse, huh?" We could be having a day like these two.' _The voice on the other end of the cellular device blurted. _'…Couple of local bulletheads. I guess they pissed off the wrong guy…Walt? You there? Walt?'_

The three realized that they had been staring for an abnormal amount of time, and regained their senses quickly. Mr. White ended the call quickly and darted into the kitchen, reaching into the drawer and pulling out the Ruger SP101.

"I'm taking this!" He declared.

"No!" Jesse protested, spreading his arms. "It's my gun! I need it!"

"No you don't!" Walter pulled on his jacket and tucked the gun away in one of the pockets, making eye contact with Charlie. "Not if you two leave town. Get out of here. Tuco killing Gonzo means he's coming after us next. I've gotta get home – my family."

Walter dashed out of the house, and as soon as he was gone Jesse and Charlie locked eyes. She darted upstairs to fetch Po, whilst he tore through the cabinets – cursing all of Charlie's baking materials in the meanwhile – until he found her old duffel bag where they had been storing their cash.

"Get some shoes!" Jesse yelled up the staircase, knowing that he wouldn't have time to force pants on Charlie. His large sweater came down to her mid thigh and would keep her warm, but she at least needed something to cover her feet. He heard the distinct sound of her converse slapping against he wood of the staircase, and they exited the house in a hurry.

"Come on," Jesse reached for her hand in the darkness as they stumbled towards the car, climbing inside and roaring the engine. He could make out the sound of her heavy breathing, and knew that at one point or another her panic would take over. Unfortunately, panic was about to play a large part in both of their lives in the form of the gangster that was crouched in their backseat.

Tuco popped up behind Jesse with a growl, startling Charlie and causing her to release a scream. The car swerved slightly as Jesse's nerves skyrocketed, recognizing that the barrel of a gun was being pressed against his face. Tuco spat out orders to drive towards Walter's house, not making eye contact with either terrified individual in the front seat until they had parked in front of the White residence and flashed their headlights multiple times. Tuco didn't exactly care that Mr. White may have been living with a family or that his meth business was a huge secret for everyone involved. In fact, Charlie reckoned that Tuco didn't care if the danged Pope was staying in Walter's house; he just wanted to slaughter his three loose ends. Charlie also reckoned that Mr. White would come roaring out of his house soon, demanding that Jesse move off his property, which would make for the perfect storm of events and would most likely lead to their unfortunate demise in the form of a certain uber-criminal stashed in their backseat. Soon enough, a disgruntled Walter White came to the window of Pinkman's car.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" He clutched the window of the Monte Carlo, a sudden realization taking over as he saw Charlie's pale, hyperventilating face and Jesse's anxious one. Slowly, a gun crept over Jesse's shoulder and Tuco made himself visible.

"Get in." He growled, repeating the threatening words when Walter hesitated. "_Get in._"

The car door handle creaked as Walter reluctantly slid into the seat next to Tuco, sharing a brief glance with Jesse through the review mirror. Charlie's frantic breathing was taking up the vehicle, and although Jesse wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and whisper words of comfort, the gun pressed to his head prevented him from shifting away from the controls. Walter wasn't sure what to think anymore.

"Let's go."

**A/N: If no one remembers from Season 1, 'Po' is Charlie's Teddy Bear and quite possibly the only memory/valuable she has from her past. **


	2. Grilled

**'****Grilled'**

The last thing that Charlie could remember was being knocked out cold by the butt of an M4A1 Carbine. So when she awoke in between Walter and Jesse in a car trunk she wasn't surprised whatsoever.

"Charlie!" Jesse's tone was relieved as they shifted towards each other in the small space. "Oh my god."

At first she said nothing, instead choosing to shake her head violently as gasps of air left her lungs. "Jesse this isn't good – this is so bad, you have no idea how b-"

"Charlie! Charlie – breathe." Jesse shook her, trying to focus her brain on one subject at a time. "Listen to me – we're going to be okay."

Walter White drifted in and out of consciousness, half of him unable to believe that he was hearing Jesse provide false hope and comfort while the other half hallucinating that his wife was opening the car trunk and forgiving him for everything that he had done. Unfortunately, his vision was cut short as Tuco popped the trunk open and forced the three out. Walter was tossed on the sandy ground first, whilst Charlie fainted at the sight of the gangster. Once again she was passed out cold, causing Jesse to become hostile.

"Get away from me!" He whipped a tire jack towards Tuco, who slammed the hood back down on his arm and forced him to drop the jagged piece of metal. "You gonna shoot me? Shoot me in here! I hope I bleed like a mother, too! That way, you have to clean it up!"

"Settle down, bitch!" Tuco popped the hood open and faced the gun towards him. "It's your ride, retard. I ain't gotta clean jack. Now get out."

"Woah!" Jesse, upon realizing that he had an assault rifle pointed towards him, miraculously became less hostile. He began to slide out of the vehicle but was tossed the rest of the way by Tuco, who nudged the still girl with the butt of his gun. Realizing that she had passed out, he kicked Jesse's leg.

"She yours?" He grunted, jutting his chin out towards Charlie. "The junkie?"

Jesse nodded frantically, anxious eyes moving back and forth from his girlfriend and the gangster. Tuco gave a nod of his head and motioned for him to pick her up, pressing the rifle against his back as the youngest boy went to collect the female. He wrapped her small form up in his arms and silently thanked his large sweater for protecting Charlie against Tuco's wandering eyes.

"Get up," Tuco growled at Walter, growing angry when he wouldn't listen. "Get. Up."

Once the two were standing, the gun was pointed again towards them. Walter, fearing the worst, began to beg. "Don't do this, Tuco."

The gangster gave them a strange stare and then tilted his head towards a ramshackle house, protected by large walls of broken down stone and miles of sandy hills. The New Mexico desert shaded the house from any unfriendly eyes, making it a perfect place to store what Jesse and Walter soon discovered. The minute they stepped foot in the door, they dually noted an older gentleman in a wheelchair seated towards the television set, which was loudly blaring a Spanish channel. Tuco shoved them towards the couch and made them sit, while he hung his gun up on the wall and placed a large jug of water on the coffee table. Walter lunged for it first, desperate for hydration and unable to fully wrap his head around what was happening after so many hours of being stuck in a car trunk.

"Empty your pockets," Tuco demanded after kissing the silent handicapped man on the forehead and taking a seat in front of the three. In between gulps of water, Walter and Jesse tossed their personal items onto the coffee table. Wallets, pills, car keys and small bags of meth were revealed. Tuco ignored the other items in favor of Walter's wallet, taking out a driver's license and glaring at the man.

"I though your name was Heisenberg, _Walter Harwell White_…?"

"Heisenberg is kind of a pseudonym," Mr. White tried to explain; quickly realizing that the gangster's vocabulary didn't extend that far. "A business name."

Tuco laughed, pulling out a photo of Skylar, Walter Jr. and Walter. "I like doing business with a family man. There's always a lot of collateral."

He fixed Mr. White with a stern gaze, holding true to the belief that the two sitting in front of him really were loose ends. He rummaged through Jesse's wallet, snickering when he found a condom and then looking towards Charlie pointedly. Jesse dug through her clothes, only finding the Teddy Bear tucked away in one of his large sweater pockets. Tuco said nothing and eyed the bear curiously as he shoved the other objects towards the boys and allowed them time to put them back in their pockets.

"What is she? Like, five?" Tuco held the toy in his hands, a frown marring his scarred face. "No phone? No wallet?"

Jesse shook his head viciously, turning out her pockets for him to see. Charlie was still out cold, head resting in the crook of her boyfriend's neck. Her sweater swallowed her, covering the bones that made themselves ever so present on Jesse's thigh and making sure that Tuco didn't get a good look at her private areas. The questioning gangster scowled again and tossed the bear back towards him, instead choosing to grab Walter by the neck of his shirt.

"Answer me one thing," His tone was intense as he got up close and personal with the Chemistry teacher. "Can I trust you?"

"Yes," Walter replied, refusing to be intimidated. "Absolutely."

After several more seconds of what seemed to be a tense staring contest, Tuco released the man and shoved him back down onto the couch. "D.E.A hit my place of business this morning," He began to explain, pacing around the small living area. "About a hundred cops looking for me. You two haven't been talking, right?"

Shakes of the head ensued.

"Picked up my whole crew," Tuco mused. "Top to bottom. Everybody except Gonzo. That's weird, right? I mean, don't you think that's weird?"

"That's weird, yes," Mr. White replied, sharing an uneven glance with Jesse once they realized that Tuco wasn't aware of his cousin's untimely death. "Unusual."

"Unusual," The gangster repeated. "Last two days, I couldn't get Gonzo on the phone. He's been acting all pouty on account of No Doze. Explain to me, how is it my fault that that little bitch did not know his place? I saw this coming. I can see the future, you know? It's this gift that I have deep inside my head. I knew last night they were going to come and try and bust me."

Tuco grew angrier, reaching for the knife on the countertop and shaking his head. "Gonzo – he went and snitched to the cops! That lousy son of a bitch! I trusted him like a brother! I was good to him! I was good!"

He began to ram the knife into the countertop, stabbing it repeatedly until bits of stone began to wear away. Blinded by rage, he continued to scream about his two fallen henchmen. "I see Gonzo, I'm going to gut him, I'm going to skin him, and I'm going to stuff his hide for a heavy bag, and every time I hit him, it's going to be like a lesson to myself! YOU NEVER, NEVER TRUST THE PEOPLE THAT YOU LOVE!"

"So," Jesse began with uncertainty. "You plan to ice Gonzo, like, future tense?"

"What?" Tuco leaned on the kitchen table, knife forgotten.

"You're saying -"

"You're saying," Walter interrupted Jesse with a shake of his hand, taking over the conversation as to deter the younger male from saying anything brash. "That Gonzo is currently operating as a police informant as far as you know?"

Tuco nodded his head in confirmation, and Mr. White silently took the decision to keep the fact that his relative had passed away a secret. Instead he leaned back against the cushions, letting out a long breath.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," He nodded once. "That's disappointing."

"I'd waste him too, yo." Jesse butted in nervously, hoping that the gangster was feeling slightly more connected to his personal side today.

"Shut up," Tuco spat, making the boy flinch. "They're out there looking for me right now. They got ghetto birds and black ops. I need to get high. I need to get good and high."

He sat down next to the handicapped senior, sniffing the bag of crystal that Walter had provided and grimacing. "What's with this gak? It smells like headcheese."

"It's killer," Jesse tried to assure him. "Yeah, seriously."

"So," Tuco moved away from them, holding the bag of meth in between his fingers and changing the subject temporarily. "I was thinking last night. I came up with this great idea; _México_."

"Mexico?" Mr. White made a face as he traded looks with Jesse, who looked equally shaken up as to what the degenerate was proposing.

"We'll disappear way out in the jungle," Tuco began to explain, and the three detainees on the couch realized that his plan was to smuggle them across the border. "We'll set you up in a superlab. We'll do nothing but cook 24-7. And no _federales_ are gonna mess with us, because I got my people there. Connection. We're gonna make beaucoup bucks, Heisenberg."

There was a moment of silence until Walter protested, "Tuco, I have a wife - a family!"

"So what?" Tuco didn't connect the dots, growing excited. "You'll get another one."

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I can't just uproot my life like that!" Mr. White tried to reason, lifting his hands in defense.

"Yeah man," Jesse joined in. "I mean, me neither."

"Who's talkin' to you?" Tuco took a couple threatening steps towards him.

"You need me, man," The kid tried to defend himself. "'Cause I cooked that scante in your hands. I'll tell you something, yo. You've never tried nothing like it. Stink or no stink, one bump, you'll be flying high for days. It's a new product him and I 'been workin' up. Careful when you hit it; it kicks like a 12-gauge when it comes on. It's got a secret ingredient."

Walter's eyes grew wide as he realized that Jesse was encouraging the gangster to sniff up the ricin powdered rocks, and that he had let slip the one thing that may have actually gotten Tuco to sniff the poison. The secret ingredient.

"What secret ingredient?" Tuco questioned, almost making Walter pray to the skies that Jesse could come up with an intelligent answer.

"Chili powder."

"I hate chili powder," The gangster grimaced, instead pulling out his personal bag of methamphetamine. "This blue magic; this is money. You keep cooking this, Heisenberg. We're going to rewrite history with this."

Walter felt like strangling Jesse for all that it was worth; Tuco could have been well on his way to a slow death by now if only the kid hadn't said anything about a secret ingredient. In fact, Tuco could have been dead a long time ago if either of them had decided to get rid of him any sooner. So, Mr. White had to watch with regret as the gangster snorted his concoction and bounced around the room. The situation took a turn for the worse, however, when he pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Pinkman.

"All right! Time to clean the menudo out from between your ears!"

"No!" Walter stood, coming in between Tuco and Jesse. "I need him, Tuco. I need him very, very badly. He's my partner, and if he doesn't go, I don't go."

Tuco pressed the gun against Walter's collarbone, eyes dilated and breath heavy. "I'll tell you this," He began, tone low and menacing. "My cousins are driving up here right now to smuggle us back down, and they're going to be here by sunset. And you're going to be on that truck, or you're going to be DEAD!"

The last word was shouted, making Charlie stir from her slumber and release a sound of shock at the situation that had presented itself before her. Jesse had been praying for her to stay quiet and asleep so that no further stress would be induced, but her brain had decided that it was time to regain consciousness at that very specific moment. Tuco turned towards the girl curled into the arms of the drug dealer on the couch.

"And you better hope they got room in the trunk for these two junkies." He growled, pushing Walter into a sitting position again and strutting off towards the kitchen.

**|:|**

"He's missing, actually – just kind of walked off…or – anyway, which is why I'm going around trying to think of anyone who knows him, even slightly." Hank, Mr. White's brother in law and current D.E.A agent, sat on the porch of a one Mrs. Pinkman, who was growing increasingly curious as to why the missing man's brother-in-law was so interesting in his former student's mother.

"That's terrible," Mrs. Pinkman's face bore igns of sympathy. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Well, if you could put me in touch with your son. Like I said, we're kind of desperate for leads. Jesse's not answering either phone number I have for him, and no one seems to be home at his house. We know he was living with Charlie Macey."

"And why do you think my son and Mr. White would be in touch?" Mrs. Pinkman didn't even want to begin a conversation about Jesse's girlfriend.

"I don't, n-necessarily. I just -" Hank began to stumble on his words.

"Are you with the police?" The mother of two narrowed her eyes.

"I'm with the Drug Enforcement Administration." He revealed, hoping that his standing with the government wouldn't offset her. Even if she was an honest, law-abiding citizen, mothers sometimes went to strange lengths to protect their children.

"Oh my god," She raised a hand to cover her chest. "Is my son in trouble?"

"I have absolutely no reason to think that, no." Hank shook his head, praying that the truth would come out soon.

"Do I need to get a lawyer?" Mrs. Pinkman grew even more anxious. "You know, you don't seem very forthright about this, coming here and asking questions about my son."

"Mrs. Pinkman," Hank began, trying to tug on the woman's heartstrings. "I swear to you, I am not here on official capacity. I do not care what your son may or may not have done wrong. I just want to find my brother-in-law. His wife is worried sick, and she's got a baby on the way."

"I'm sorry," She began, once again softening. "I would like to help you, but I have not seen my son or his girlfriend in over a month. I don't expect to see them anytime soon."

"Well, thanks for your time," Hank began to rise, abandoning his other questions for the one solitary demand that had the small chance of working out. "If you could tell me one more thing; is Jesse still driving the, uh, '89 Chevy Monte Carlo, as far as you know?"

"If he had spent half as much time and money on his education as he has on that ridiculous bouncing car -" Mrs. Pinkman began.

"Lowrider, huh?"

**|:|**

"Chili powder," Mr. White scoffed as the three sat on the couch minutes later. Tuco had his back turned to them while he prepared tacos, occasionally sniffing some of their product in between tossing meat onto his grill. "Did I already tell you how moronic that was?"

"Whatever man," Jesse scoffed, still supporting a curled up Charlie who had been clutching Po for dear life. "At least I tried something. It almost worked, too. How's about you leaving my gun? First you boost it, then you leave it at your house – _my _gun."

"How was I supposed to know you two were chauffeuring Tuco to my doorstep?" Mr. White argued, both of their tones harsh whispers.

"Well," Jesse covered his face with his hands. "At least he wants you alive."

Suddenly the TV began to blare, speaking of two recent deaths that had taken place in the greater Albuquerque area and were apparently related to methamphetamine distribution. Quickly realizing that the two mug shots on the screen belonged to Tuco's deceased henchmen, Walter changed the channel. At first the three locked eyes on the handicapped senior, who was still sitting in the wheelchair facing the television set. But upon drawing the conclusion that he either wasn't upset by the change in channel or didn't feel like ratting them out, they relaxed.

"Hey – I don't get it," Jesse began to ponder. "If Tuco didn't kill Gonzo, then who did?"

"I don't know. I don't know - does it really matter? If he finds out that Gonzo is dead and not a police informant, who does he automatically blame?"

"Us," Jesse frowned in terror. "Fuck."

"We need a plan," Walter initiated. "Think, think."

"Let's just bum-rush him, man," Jesse proposed, drawing Charlie's attention from her dazed state. "You know? You crack him over the head with something, and I'll go for his gun."

"'Crack him over the head with something?'" Walter quoted, lifting up a flyswatter sarcastically.

"And you got the C-bomb, man," Jesse shook his head as Walter stared at him in disbelief. "You're as good as checked out already. You should be, like, all sacrificial, jumping on a grenade, yo."

Charlie smacked him on the leg, glaring at him. "What?" She hissed. "So his life isn't the priority here because he's going to be dead soon anyway?! That's your point?!"

Jesse stayed silent, shaking his head in denial and acknowledging the fact that she was, in fact, correct. All of the lives in this room had to be valued equally – except for the fact that one of them needed to be eliminated as soon as possible to save the hides of the rest. Walter reached a shaky hand out towards the ricin-poisoned baggie, holding it close to him.

"We've got to get him to take this," He suggested, looking up towards the hardened criminal who was still cooking furiously.

"He don't much like the taste of Chili P," Jesse grew frustrated. "That much has been established. So unless you can convince him to booty-bump -"

Tuco suddenly turned, setting three plates of tacos down at the table and motioning for his hostages to come forwards. The conversation on their end stopped as they pretended as though they hadn't been conversing on ways to murder him for the past several minutes.

"Eat," Tuco growled huskily. " We got a long ride ahead of us. Go and sit. You're looking a little weak, Heisenberg. I don't want you to go belly up before we get there."

The three moved from the couch to go sit at the long bench, looking down at the plates before them. It was safe to say that Mr. White's meal wasn't poisoned – after all Tuco had made it very clear how much he enjoyed the chemists' product – but as far as Jesse and Charlie's meals went, they had to assume the worst. So as Tuco went to utter words of Spanish to the handicapped man – whom he had dubbed 'Tio' – Walter busied himself with pouring the Ricin poison into Tuco's serving of tacos. He wrapped the last piece of bread around the meat just as Tuco turned his head, causing Charlie to let out a long breath of relief at the tense situation.

Unfortunately, the three hadn't taken into account Tio's watchful eyes, and so just as Tuco was about to take a bite of the deadly meal, Tio's bell rang out. The small noisy device attached to his wheelchair served as a communication purpose, but in this situation it was more like an alarm. He had seen the cancer-ridden man place something inside of his nephew's dinner, and was planning on letting his relative know about it.

"Take it easy, Tio," Tuco glared, not understanding the gravity of the situation. "I wil feed you. I eat first – that's the deal."

Again, Tuco tried to take a bite of his meal but was stopped by the ringing of Tio's bell.

"What?" Tuco made eye contact with the man, grinning when he misunderstood his uncle's eye contact with his plate. "I get it, I get it, I get it." He laughed, switching their plates and causing the Ricin-ridden taco to land in front of Tio.

"You greedy old bastard," Tuco guffawed, going back to sit down and munching into his meal. "I tell you, Heisenberg. Old people. You feed them, huh? You put them in a really nice crib in the country, and yet they gotta steal the food off your plate. You better eat every bite of that."

There was silence at the table as they all ate, but the eldest man refused to touch his food. Fortunately, Tuco was distracted for the time being thanks to Charlie, who refused to eat at all.

"Don't like my food?" Tuco spat, leaning closer over the table towards Charlie. His menacing tone was enough to make her shrink back again, but it didn't overpower her fear of the plate in front of her. The thing she was the most afraid of was gaining weight, and it was something she would die over any day. So, stumbling for words, Charlie struggled to form an excuse as to why she wasn't eating the gangster's home cooked meal.

Jesse took a chance and spoke out of turn, hoping that Tuco wouldn't grow angry. "Eating disorder."

Tuco looked back and forth between the two with his usual suspicious gaze until his eyes finally traced over the small woman's features. Her collarbones were visible, jutting out and extenuating the neck that could easily fit on of the gangster's hands around it. Her legs were sticks and her wrists were tiny, while her fingers reminded him of spider's legs. Any part of her skin that wasn't pale or scarred was covered in tattoos, which was something – based on the quality of work on her pieces – that Tuco definitely appreciated. But when the old schooler finally reached her eyes, there was something in them that he hadn't seen before. The dark orbs were sunken in, and looked like they belonged someone who had given up out of total recognition of their complete and utter failure. She was obviously terrified, but he recognized the pain in the glints of her eyes. Her home had had certain darkness in it, just like his. Tuco's ability to identify with other abused children like himself meant he had a knack for picking up on the signs of intimidation, guilt and shame – all emotions that came with abuse victims.

"Put the plate on the counter," Tuco shifted his angry gaze on the two other boys, nodding for Charlie to go ahead and put her food away if she wasn't going to eat it. She obeyed quickly and quietly, not wanting to start any more trouble. Clearly Tuco didn't want to show any emotions that excluded the present situation, and she wasn't planning on pushing her situation upon him. She was a loose end on top of another loose end, so her chances compared to everyone else in the room were diminishing fast.

Just as Charlie was situating herself back down on the table, sniffling inconspicuously and picking at her fingernails, Tio pushed his plate over the edge of the table. The plate shattered, spilling Taco everywhere and causing a large 'bang' to echo in the small home. Tuco turned to his uncle, furious.

"What did you do that for?!" He screamed. "God! Look – lookit! There's nothing left!"

Tio's bell simply rang again in response, as if to justify his outburst. Tuco sat back down, refusing to pick up the mess and finishing his meal in an angry silence. After Walter and Jesse had eaten, they relocated back to their original position on the couch. When Tuco again pulled out his assault rifle, their first reaction was to raise their hands, but upon realizing that he only wanted to shoot at cows in the field, they covered their ears. Several shots rang out before Charlie began to cry. Jesse enveloped her into his arms again, tucking the Teddy Bear into his sweater's large pocket and praying that everything would turn out in their favor. He would never forgive himself for putting Charlie in this much danger and stress, and although he had no doubts that she would stay with him until the end of time, he wondered if this was enough to make her question their iron clad relationship.

It took Tuco several rounds of cows until he realized that Tio's bell was ringing again. The high-pitched dinging had almost receded into background noise, but after awhile it was questionable why the man kept ringing the bell.

"What?!" The gangster screamed. "What do you want?! Don't even tell me that you're hungry – don't go there!"

Instead of staring down his nephew, Tio's gaze was focused on Walter as he continued to ring the bell. Tuco followed his uncle's line of sight and began to grin again. "Are you mad-dogging them, Tio? What, you don't like them? One ding – that means 'yes'."

Again, the bell chimed its usual tone.

"Tio don't like you," Tuco confirmed, leaning down to the gentleman's level as the bell chimed out with every question. "Why don't you like them, Tio? You don't trust them? Why don't you trust them, Tio?"

"Tuco," Mr. White tried to reason. "Come on – I mean, there's clearly some dementia. He's not lucid."

"Did they do something to you, Tio? Something that you don't like? What did they do to you?" Tuco began to sound like he was just talking into an empty, useless void, and suddenly turned on Mr. White. "What did you do to my Tio?!"

"Nothing!" Walter defended himself, thinking of possible excuses.

"Bullshit!" Tuco screamed again. "My Tio does not lie!"

"I don't know." Again, the chemistry teacher lied and tried to save front. "M-maybe I did change the channel on his TV, but that's it."

"Yeah," Jesse joined in. "While you were cooking, he was watching one of those 'telenovels' with all those ripe honeys on it? He was really into it. I told him you to change the channel, man! Dude needs his eye candy – that's it!"

"Is that it, Tio?" Tuco looked towards his uncle again. "Is that it? Did they change your '_Mamitas'_?"

This time, however, the bell did not ring.

"What are you telling me, Tio?" Tuco leaned down to face the older gentleman. "Are they punking me?"

With the final ring of Tio's bell, chaos ensued. Tuco grabbed Jesse with one hand and practically threw him out the door, causing Charlie to scream in fear and bolt after them. Walter followed close behind, begging with Tuco to spare his life. Jesse was tossed around the backyard like a rag doll, assault rifle pressed against his back as Tuco demanded to know what they had done. Charlie panicked as her boyfriend was held at gunpoint on the ground in front of her, pleading with the influenced drug supplier not to kill him. Frantically, she scoured the ground for any sort of weapon. Finding only a heavy rock, she picked it up with some struggle and met Walter's eyes. Understanding her plan, he began to explain to Tuco.

"We tried to poison you," Mr. White's voice was level, trying to calm the ever-so-furious Tuco. "Because you're an insane, degenerate piece of filth – and you deserve to die."

Just then, as Tuco turned to face the man who had the guts to insult him in his face, Charlie used all the strength she had left to bash his head in with a rock. Tuco fell sideways, temporarily disabled and giving the three enough time to gain the upper hand on the situation. Jesse turned and assessed the situation, tackling Tuco to the ground and laying punches on his bloody face; while Mr. White bent down to retrieve the M4A1 Carbine rifle. Unsure of when to shoot and moving Charlie out of harm's way, he was unable to assist a struggling Jesse on the sandy ground. Tuco had begun to regain his sense of direction, and quickly overcame Jesse's attempts to knock him out. It seemed that the situation was once again going to go downhill, until Jesse managed to reach around Tuco's beltline, snagging his pistol and firing it directly into his abdomen. After that, the only sounds heard were Tuco's groans of pain and Charlie's sobs of terror. It was a combination of noises that Jesse knew would wrack his brain at night and would always plague the dark corners of his mind. Nevertheless, the adrenaline high granted him courage and with it, a surge of fury.

"Who's the bitch now?!" He roared, kicking Tuco into a ditch that had been built out of solid brick. He raised his gun to the gangster once more, hand shaking with rage. Jesse didn't know what his exact intentions were, but Charlie stopped him rather quickly when she took a strong hold of his arm in a silent command.

"Let him bleed," Mr. White grimaced, leading his two former students away from the bloody mess that lay in the ditch. They stumbled into the Monte Carlo, but reached a standstill once they realized that the only and only Tuco had robbed their keys.

"Oh my god," Jesse glanced behind Charlie at the approaching cars.

"The cousins!" Walter hissed. "Shit!"

Again, they slid out of the vehicle and ran towards an enclave of metal parts, watching as a near-unconscious, bloody Tuco stumbled towards the low rider and began to fire shots towards the car that had just arrived. After a quick exchange of gunfire, one final pistol shot was heard, and then a man in an orange shirt approached the low rider. At this point, it was only safe to assume that Tuco had been killed.

"Oh my god," Walter panicked as he recognized his brother-in-law and began to rise from his hiding place. "Hank!"

Ignoring Jesse's cries of complaint, Walter pulled the two from their hiding spots and dragged them towards the fence. Getting the point, they dashed as far away from Tuco's compound as they could get, only stopping to bury the handgun and then continuing to trudge until they reached a highway.


	3. Bit by a Dead Bee

**'****Bit by a Dead Bee'**

"It's a bold plan, Mr. White," Jesse squinted up at his old chemistry teacher, who was about to hop into the vehicle that had stopped to pick him up. "You sure this is the way to go?"

Hitchhiking wasn't a good habit to get into, but in a situation like theirs it was the three's only option. Mr. White had agreed to climb into one vehicle, while Charlie and Jesse stuck together in another. They had discussed staying on the down low after such a large-scale incident had happened, and both were planning on taking rather large breaks from the meth business until things with the D.E.A cooled down.

Mr. White nodded several times and hopped into the back of the pickup truck with several older farmers, waving once towards Charlie and Jesse as they faded away into the distance. They managed to catch a ride with a friendly trucker, who transported them all the way into town. It took them another half an hour to walk home, and when they finally arrived in their house, they found none other than Badger sleeping on their couch.

"Badger?" Jesse shoved his friend off of the furniture. "What the hell?"

"Dude!" Badger was ecstatic, wrapping his friend in a tight hug. "Where the hell have you been, man? I called you like a million times!"

Jesse sighed, making eye contact with a very worn-out Charlie. "Go shower," He pushed her upstairs. "I'll explain."

**|:|**

Later in the day, the three found themselves situated in Badger's car across the street from the house whilst the police knocked on the door.

"Man, they're like Jehovah's witnesses," Badger laughed at the policemen knocking on his friend's door. "They don't give up. I don't get it – why don't they just kick your door down?"

"They need probable cause," Jesse rubbed his face, dually noting how Charlie had taken the time to slip on a pair of sweatpants and had begun to shiver again.

"'Probable cause?'" Badger laughed. "Yo, what'd you do? Rob a bank?"

"I _told _you," Jesse grew frustrated with his friend, acknowledging that Badger clearly didn't understand what 'I popped a cap in Tuco's ass' meant. "This is serious shit. We're like outlaws."

"Explain how the hell you're gonna get yourself outta this one," Badger snorted. "'Cause right now I'm not seein' a hell of a lot of options."

"Nah – alright, listen," Jesse began to explain. "Charlie and I pretend like we've been partyin' up at the Crystal Palace for the last three days – make it seem like we had nothing to do with Tuco at all. Then we toss in that our car was stolen and get Charlie cryin' down at Police headquarters; bada-bing-bada-boom. They'll leave us all alone."

"Where do I come in?" Badger was still gazing at Jesse's house in confusion.

"You call and leave an anonymous tip; tell 'em you know we're in room -" Jesse glanced down at the paper where Wendy's room had been for the past several weeks. He had already ironed out the details with the seasoned meth-head, paying for her rent in another room whilst his perfectly planned situation went down. "205B, okay? Tell 'em we've been there for like three days, and that's all you know."

Badger made a noise of protest.

"Come on, dude!" Jesse pleaded. "It'll put us in the clear! They won't know it's you!"

"Fine," His friend huffed.

"Alright," Jesse nodded towards the police car that peeled away down the block. "Let's do this."

The three bolted inside the house, heading straight for the basement and beginning to deconstruct the meth lab that had been hiding away for so long. While Charlie and Jesse hurriedly stacked glassware into the cardboard boxes, Badger looked around in amazement.

"Holy Christ!" He exclaimed, a huge grin on his face as he stood rooted to the ground. "You're Willy Wonka! You are Willy Wonka, and I got the golden ticket! Put me on your magical boat, man! Sail me down your chocolately river of meth! So where do you keep the pseudo?"

"It's a P2P cook," Jesse explained, dashing around him to grab another box while Charlie did the same. "That barrel? Aqueous methylamine. With that, you don't need pseudo. Come on, help me out man!"

"No pseudo?" Badger ignored him in favor of humping the barrel. "Come to me, beautiful baby. I'm gonna be so good to you."

"Just take this," Jesse handed him a box of supplies, getting antsy. "Here."

"But I can't just let you break this down!" His friend protested. "That's be sacrilege!"

"I told you," Jesse repeated himself. "That's why we're here – you saw the cops, right?"

"Sure," Badger scoffed. "But couldn't we just cook one quick batch? For the road?"

"No!" Jesse grumbled, packing faster and taking a box from Charlie. "Forget it, all right? This stuff has to go, like now."

"You owe me!" Badger grew frustrated as well. "We're cool and all, but I ain't forgettin' you just left me stranded."

"Got, Badger!" Jesse turned around and gripped his friend by the t-shirt collar. Charlie was undisturbed, and continued to pack frantically. "Don't mess with me, got it?"

"Yeah," Badger rolled his eyes. "I got it."

They managed to get all of the equipment back into the RV, which was towed minutes later by none other than Badger's seedy cousin, Clovis. Although Jesse could only pay half of the thousand dollar fee that was agreed upon, Clovis conceded to keep the RV in his lot and not say a word about what was packed up inside.

"What are you doing now, exactly?" Jesse questioned his friend

"I'm giving you, like, two hours," Badger sighed, repeating what Jesse had nailed in his head minutes earlier. "And then I'm calling on a pay phone, not a cell phone."

"You're not using your own name," Charlie reminded as they walked back to Badger's yellow Pontiac.

"I mean, obviously," Badger nodded. "Look, guys, I'll do, like, what you said – but why do you gotta go and do this?"

"They need probable cause," Jesse grunted as they slipped inside the vehicle and were carted off to the Crossroads motel. "We're giving it to them."

**|:|**

"We're about to get arrested," Charlie groaned, turning over to rest her head on Jesse's chest. They had situated themselves on the bed in room 205B of the Crossroads motel, anxiously awaiting their demise that was about to take place. If their plan worked out, they would be out of the Police Headquarters in several hours and back on the streets in no time.

"Yeah," Jesse kissed her forehead. "We're about to get arrested."

Suddenly, the door was kicked in and there were at least ten armed men dressed in black in the room, all shouting orders and pulling Charlie away from Jesse. "Get on your stomach, now!"

"Get over, roll!" Charlie was dragged across the bed kicking and handcuffed. "Do it now!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Jesse protested as they yanked him up and forced him out the door. As per usual, no one stuck their heads out of their complexes to watch; when an arrest went down at the Crystal palace it was the norm to shut yourself away for a good hour until the police cleared the area. No one wanted to be a witness in an otherwise obviously drug-related case.

"Charlie? Charlie listen to me! Breathe, baby!" Jesse yelled behind him as he heard the significant spike in his girlfriend's breathing. He had no doubts that she would stick to the story, but the last couple of days had taken a toll on both her physical and mental health. She had been arrested before, on accounts of drug and theft charges, but had always been released due to her mental health status.

The two were driven to the station in separate cars, and then brought into separate rooms to be interviewed at separate times. Of course, the D.E.A agent questioning them had to be Hank; Mr. White's brother in law and the one who had been tracking their meth situation all along.

"What going on?" Jesse faked confusion when the agents stepped into his room. "What'd I do?"

"Jesse Pinkman, I presume." Hank sat down across from him and opened a file.

"What, man?"

"Tell me again," He noted something on the papers.

"Again?" Jesse made a face. "What's there to tell, okay? Charlie and I were partying, that's it."

"Since Saturday night?" Hank scrunched up his nose, prepared for a complete sham of a story. "Partying for three days straight? Just bumping uglies and smoking that crystal you got from your pal Tuco?"

"Taco?" Jesse laughed. "I don't know any Taco, and I damn sure didn't say anything about no crystal."

Hank left the drug topic alone for the time being. "Three days, huh? You must have got hungry."

"Yeah, I guess." Jesse shrugged, debating whether or not to mentioned Charlie's eating disorder and opting to do so once he realized the onset of questions that were being asked.

"You order take-out? Yeah? Where from?" Hank leaned forwards in confidence. "You get yourself a little bit of that Moo Goo Gai Pan from that chink place around the corner?"

"No, no we didn't," Jesse grimaced. "Charlie's got an eating disorder; she won't eat any of that crap. I got stuff from the vending machine. You know, Funyuns. I had a hot pocket."

Hank looked towards his latino counterpart for confirmation, and he nodded. "Checks out – last time we arrested her she was a hundred and five pounds. This time she's one hundred."

Hank waved a hand, wanting to save the girl for later. "Funyuns and Hot Pockets? And you didn't notice your car was gone?"

"No," Jesse replied. "Not until you guys went and busted down the door. Now who's gonna pay for that? Managements gonna be on my ass for sure." His distractions were to no avail, as everyone in the room was well aware of the bullshit story. It was just a matter of revealing the truth as to where the two had _really _been for the past three days.

"Why didn't you answer your cell phone?"

"It was in my car." Jesse's answers were forward and immediate, one after the other just as fast as Hank was able to fire out questions.

"That right?" Hank raised a brow. "We found your car, but your phone wasn't in it."

"You found my car?!" Jesse leaned back, faking relief and elation. "You found my car! Awesome! D.E.A all the way!"

"Since we're talking about missing property here," Hank redirected his focus, not wanting to deal with the silly theatrics. "Did you leave anything else in the car?"

"Like what?"

"Like this?" Hank lifted Charlie's duffle bag and slapped the money down in front of him.

"That's not mine," Jesse denied regretfully.

"That's not yours?" Hank laughed, turning to agent Steve Gomez. "Says it's not his, Gomie. Gee, I really thought this might be yours."

"I wish," Jesse admitted truthfully.

"Unclaimed drug money," Steve nodded, eyeing the rolled up stacks. "Nice."

"You know what we got here, Gomie, don't ya?" Hank continued to poke fun at Jesse, hoping to annoy him into admitting the cash was his. "That's a new interdiction van right there. Definitely some new softball jerseys, 'cause we need 'em."

"Good thing Tuco's already dead," Gomez tossed one of the stacks into the air, catching it as it fell. "If I lost this kind of money, I'd wanna kill _myself_."

Suddenly, Hank thrust himself forwards so that he was leaning across the table, centimeters away from Jesse's face. "So, who's your chief, lil' injun?"

"What?" Jesse refused to be intimidated, instead continuing the role play of innocent confusion. "What does that even mean?"

"I think your story's bullshit," Hank was growing frustrated, but refused to show it. "I think you know who Tuco Salamanca was. I think your car was there 'cause you two were there. Tuco had a bullet in him when I got there, and I think you know something about that, too."

"So what are you saying?" Jesse shook his head. "I shot someone? With, like, a gun?"

"You?" Hank scoffed. "Only shooting you do is into a Kleenex. But I think you know the badass who did."

"Look," Jesse let out a frustrated breath when Hank sat back down in his seat across from him. "I was partying with Charlie."

"Funyuns and boom-boom?" Hank still wouldn't buy it. "I don't think so. Tell you what: we're gonna go talk to that skinny, suicidal junkie girlfriend you got, and you know what? I got a feeling she's gonna, you know, roll on ya. Don't go nowhere."

Jesse glared at the two one final time as they exited the room, shaking his head in regret at the amount of stress he had placed on his poor girlfriend. It amazed him the extent that her patience went, and he knew that he could trust her completely no matter what issue was at hand, but it was in moments like this that he questioned if their lifestyle truly was healthy for her. It was true that the relationship proved stronger than ever, but at times he wished that he could go back and protect her from all of the bad situations he could have avoided.

A door closing in the room next to him brought his thoughts back to the situation at hand, and he wanted nothing more than to embrace his significant other in that very moment. He knew that Charlie was scared, anxious, tired and most likely panicking due to the copious and rigorous interviewing strategies of the D.E.A, and he knew that the minute he got to hold her he was going to let the moment last for everything that it was worth.

**|:|**

"I-I just w-want Jesse," Charlie sobbed, curled into a ball on her chair and wrapping herself in her boyfriend's sweater. "P-please!"

"Charlie, listen," Hank tried to reason with the hysterical woman. "Talk to me, and you get to see your boyfriend in no time, okay? He's right in the next room. Now tell me the last three days."

"I-I told you," Charlie sniffled, wiping away her tears and biting her lip. "W-we were s-shacked up s-since Saturday."

"Neither of you left the room?" Hank tilted his head, frowning as the girl's breathing picked up even more. It was clear that she had anxiety issues, but the agents couldn't bring her counterpart in until it was confirmed that neither of them knew anything about the past three days. "Not even for a little, little minute? Not even for a second?"

Charlie shook her head, sniffling again.

"Did Jesse leave the room? He did, didn't he? Charlie – you can do it."

Charlie grew even more hysterical. "No! W-we didn't leave the r-room. I-I don't know what t-the hell you're t-talking about – we've been i-in 205B for three days and we j-just want to get o-out of here!"

Hank looked back towards agent Gomez, shaking his head and motioning to meet outside of the room. They shuffled Charlie off to the release section, intent on ridding the Headquarters of her presence as soon as possible. Jesse, however, still had some significant questioning to go through. Charlie was told to wait for her boyfriend in the hallway while her papers were being processed. It took another half an hour, but soon enough Jesse was released without charges. The second they spotted each other, release papers in hand and bags underneath their eyes, Charlie was already running to embrace him. He caught her small frame, hugging it closely and pressing a long kiss to her lips.

"Holy shit," He muttered, lifting her up off the ground and tangling his fingers in her hair. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

"What now?" Jesse looked down at his faithful other half as they stopped just outside of the Police Headquarters.

She looked up at him like a lost puppy, smiling and intertwining their fingers. "Waffle House?"

Her question caused a smile to light up his face, thrilled at the prospect of her occasional eating. "Waffle House is good."

They both lit cigarettes on their way to the restaurant, enjoying the sweet nicotine after having suffered days without it. At one point Jesse stopped to use a payphone, seeing if his father was at all interested in picking them up, but naturally the man wasn't interested in investing any more time with his son and refused to help the two. Charlie rubbed his back as his shoulders slumped, defeated after yet another attempt of trying to reconcile with his parents.

"Give 'em a couple more months," She cooed as they walked into the restaurant, taking a table in the corner and ordering a small dish of waffles. Between the two of them they didn't consume a whole lot of food, but once their friends were involved the equation was different. On many separate occasions they had come home to find Combo or Badger tearing through their fridge, high out of their minds and begging for Charlie to cook up a giant batch of cookies.

"Nah," Jesse shook his head, thoughts drifting back to those of his parents. "I don't think they'll ever come around."

"It's their loss," She smiled, meeting his eyes in attempt to bring him some sort of comfort. Their waffles arrived, and while finishing the carbohydrate-filled meal slowly, they talked about everything other than what they had just witnessed in the past two days. Charlie told him about a funny video she had seen of a falling penguin, while Jesse explained to her how the hydraulics on his old low-rider had worked for the hundredth time. Their conversation shifted from how to build a table to strange satanic rituals and useless holidays. They laughed as they tried to guess other customer's stories around them, reordering water until the waitress finally built up the nerve to ask them to leave. They left the restaurant still snickering, arguing amongst themselves about whether or not a certain businessman had overheard them laughing about his overly large stack of pancakes.

Jesse eventually stopped in front of a payphone, digging for spare change in his pocket and dialing the hospital number to ask for Mr. White. He eventually reached him, and the man answered after the third ring. Charlie lit a cigarette as they began their conversation, tucked into Jesse's side and silently keeping watch.

_"__Payphone?"_

"Payphone," Jesse confirmed, flailing the hand on the arm that was resting around his girlfriend. "In the middle of nowhere, nobody followed. I've got Charlie. How'd it go?"

"_Okay,"_ Walter responded, sounding a little shaken. _"You?"_

"They sweated us plenty," Jesse gave Charlie's shoulder a shake. "But they finally cut us loose. So - you getting' outta there?"

_"__Tomorrow."_ The older man confirmed. _"So, who came for you? The D.E.A? What did they ask you?"_

"That's the thing, you know," Jesse began to rant. "Your scumbag brother-in-law took our rainy day fund."

_"__Your what?"_ Walter sounded confused. _"What is that?"_

"Our rainy day fund," Jesse explained, kicking at a rock on the ground. "Sixty eight thousand, kay? Cueball son of a bitch laughed in my face – we we've got, like eighty bucks to our name."

_"__Wait, wait,"_ Walter's voice floated from the other end of the line, sounding increasingly agitated. _"What does he know? Does he know it's your money?"_

"No man," Jesse scoffed. "He doesn't know shit, okay? The plan worked. They bought it. But we've got bills due, man – we're screwed."

_"__Did he mention my name?"_ Mr. White questioned, causing Charlie to frown and take a significantly larger drag of her cigarette. She began to question whether or not Mr. White really cared about them at all.

"No," Her boyfriend's tone turned from anxious to sarcastic in mere seconds. "Thanks for caring."

_"__What about the basement?" _

"It's clean."

_"__And the RV?"_

"Badger's cousin took it to his garage," Jesse explained, making another face once he remember that he still owed Clovis a thousand for the storage of his vehicle. "It's safe."

There was a pause on the other end until a question that neither of the twenty year olds was expecting came through.

_"__Can he get it running again?" _

"Why?" Jesse pulled his head back from the phone, as if to emphasize that he couldn't believe what he was hearing. After all of the danger, all of the conversations he and Walter had had about 'taking a break' from cooking, the man still wanted to produce?

_"__So we can cook." _

"So you still wanna cook?" Jesse looked up at the stars, pondering how the hell Mr. White had found the courage to keep trudging along and not turned himself in to the police yet. "Seriously?"

_"__What's changed, Jesse?"_ Were Walter's last words before the line on the other end went dead. Jesse shook his head in disbelief as he hung up pulling Charlie away from the payphone with one last shake of his head.

"Come on baby girl," He looked both ways before crossing the street, "Let's get the fuck home."

The two began the long trek home, avoiding the sketchier neighborhoods and changing sides of the street when anyone threatening loomed ahead. Their pace was brisk, covering as much ground as possible as fast as possible and not wanting to get caught by any antsy customers or unfriendly dealers who didn't like outsiders trekking through their area. They managed to reach the house in record time, locking the doors quickly and making a beeline for the bedroom. There was a flurry of clothing and lighting of cigarettes as the two stripped down and assumed their usual positions on the mattress. Charlie nestled her head into the crook of her boyfriend's neck, tracing the tattoo on his bare chest and quietly puffing away on her cancer stick.

"Charlie, I'm sorry," Jesse began to apologize, chest rumbling. "I never wanted to put you through any of this shit."

Charlie said nothing, merely shrugging and shooting him a lazy smile. There was nothing but silence until the two finished their cigarettes, putting them out in the ashtray at the same time and turning to face each other. Just as Jesse was about to open his mouth to apologize again, Charlie interrupted him by placing her lips against his. He made a small noise of surprise before giving in to the situation and wrapping his hands around her waist, smiling against her lips and flipping them so that he was situated on top. After all of this stress, the two deserved a relaxing night at home together, and Jesse had just been offered the perfect way to unwind.

He peppered kisses down Charlie's throat, stopping to leave hickeys on her sweet spots and relishing in the sound of her breath picking up – this time for a good reason. Instead of rushing into the act like they normally did, Jesse found himself taking his time, and was surprised with the competence and cooperation that flowed in from his counterpart. Their movements were slow, forcing each moment to last for all that it was worth and enjoying it. Profanities were mouthed instead of shouted, and eye contact was consistent when Jesse's mouth settled itself in his usual position in between Charlie's legs. His tongue went out to glide across her, drawing a soft cry and causing her fingers to tangle gently in his hair. This time there was no pulling, just a gentle encouragement to continue his ever-so-pleasing actions. He did so, tracing letters of the Alphabet and using his two right hand fingers to provoke reaction and wrapping a hand around her waist as she bucked against his advances.

"Jesse," Charlie found the breath in herself to gasp out loud. "O-oh god -"

Her thighs began shaking as her breath picked up even more, and the boy in between her legs found himself focusing on her jawline as her head tilted back in pleasure when he gave a particularly hard thrust of his fingers. Yet, his actions were calculated and slow, measured in every way possible to avoid giving her too much at once. He quickly located the particular bundle of fleshy nerves inside of her, tapping against it and watching intently when her back arched clear off the bed with a drawn-out cry of ecstasy. Without relenting for a second, he pushed against the spot again and reconnected his lips to her clit. He was soon tangled in her legs and felt both hands in his hair, nails softly scraping against his scalp as she shamelessly locked eyes with him and moaned. It took Jesse several moments to realize that she was close to the edge, and reluctantly pulled away when her walls started to flutter around him in warning. There was nothing but a mere whine in response, but he almost lost it when she looked up at him through her lashes and bit her lip in that way she knew he liked.

"Charlie," He locked lips with her again as he slowly slid home in her tight, wet passage. "Fuck."

Soon he found himself delivering slow, careful thrusts into the girl beneath him, taking pleasure in her gasps and scraping his short nails up her thighs. Her legs wrapped themselves neatly around his waist, hips meeting his for every thrust and back bowing consistently. It was slow, drawn-out, and would have otherwise made either party rather impatient if not for the fact that the past week had been the most stressful thing in a long series of months for either of them. So neither party was complaining when Jesse attached his mouth to Charlie's collarbone, making her cry out again and leave crescent moons scattered all over his shoulders. Long red scratches down his back would soon join these when he hit a particular spot inside her and allowed his hand to creep down to circle her clit while his mouth left more and more bruises on her neck. The pair of actions, followed by a consistent and very diligent increase in force, drove Charlie near the edge. Jesse's thrusts were driving her insane, still slow and leisurely but infuriatingly strong.

"Jesse!" She abandoned what was now Jesse's scratched up back, instead choosing to clutch at the covers above her head as she drifted closer and closer to release. He continued his pace, watching below as his girlfriend unraveled underneath him, hips never failing and watching as Charlie's body clenched around his. The action of hers made him groan out, burying his face in her neck and getting lost in her pants and moans of appreciation as they spurred on his release. His head dipped down once again to suck at the skin on her chest, and once again Charlie's fingers intertwined themselves in his hair. Both members were too far-gone to care about the moment lasting for any longer, and as both were coming down from their well-deserved highs she began to speak.

"I love you," She untangled her fingers from his locks in favor of stroking them slowly.

"I love you," He responded into the pale skin of her neck, regarding the red marks that would soon turn purple. "And I'm sorry."

"I know," Charlie smiled in understanding, propping herself up on one elbow. "It's okay."

Jesse was quiet for several seconds, frowning and flipping on to his back. "No, it's not," He finally sighed, rubbing his tattooed hand on his face. "You don't deserve to be treated like that."

"I said it before and I'll say it again," Charlie muttered indignantly as she went to reach for the cigarettes and lighter. "You're stuck with me, buster."

"I know," Jesse grinned, accepting a smoke and lighting both of their cigarettes in a well-practiced ritual. There was no noise in the house for the next several minutes as each breathed in their chemicals, and when both cigarettes had been finished and extinguished Jesse turned to his girlfriend cautiously.

"Crystal?" He proposed the illicit substance, grinning heavily when she nodded vigorously and hopped up out of the bed.

"Crystal."


	4. Down

**'****Down'**

After around a week off the job, Charlie was back at _Los Pollos _and assisting to serve the overweight residents of Albuquerque, smiling the whole way. After everything she had been through she figured she deserved a weeklong break from any responsibilities anyway, so the guilt was minimal and her fellow employees bought everything. She was unaware, however, of Gus's quizzical stare as she waited tables throughout the day, getting all the orders down pat and falling right back into the swing of things. He only approached her to ask how she was feeling during her lunch break, to which she smiled and lied through her teeth without any issue. Gus, knowing fully well what had most likely gone down in the last couple of days, said nothing but merely nodded his head in relief that she seemed to be unharmed. He didn't trust junkies, but he had a soft spot for Charlie after she had sat down and discussed the source of her panic attacks with him, which had lead to a very open discussion about her entire past. So when she left for the day, closing up shop and handing the keys over to her boss, he decided against confronting her about her boyfriend. She seemed to have enough on her plate as it was.

Charlie, unaware of the inner turmoil her boss was suffering as she bused back home, sighed and picked at her fingernails with anxiety. She had been separated from heroin for a long period of time as it was, and the withdrawal had been getting to her. Sleep problems, restlessness, nausea, fever, aches, cravings, mood changes and excessive body fluids had been plaguing her for the better half of the week, testing her patience and causing her to become even more attached to Jesse. Speaking of her boyfriend, she was surprised to find him missing when she arrived back at the house. Shrugging it off and recognizing the feeling of rising bile in her stomach, she rushed to the sink and released the contents of her stomach loudly.

"Charlie?" She heard the front door open as she retched again, and soon enough Jesse located her crouched over the sink. "Oh, shit."

He quickly grabbed her long black tresses and a rag, running the tap water and supporting her while they waited for her stomach to calm down. After several more hurls it seemed that her nausea decreased, and she was able to stand with the support of her boyfriend. Charlie began to cry, trembling and not knowing how to properly deal with the array of emotions flowing through her. Wordlessly, Jesse picked her up like a six year old and drew a bath upstairs, stripping her of her clothing in the meanwhile and rolling his sleeves up. It was yet another routine that was sometimes customary for them – sometimes she wasn't coordinated enough to take care of herself, or sometimes he was unsure as to whether or not the best idea was to leave her all alone in the bathroom with sharp object – so he took the higher road and assisted her through the simple tasks. Even if it was the simplest things, like washing her as he did now, it was important because he loved her.

As she curled up into a ball in the lukewarm water before him, wiping away at the remainder of her tears and resting in the dazed state, he took the time to run his eyes over her form. Like the D.E.A agents at the Police Headquarters had mentioned; she really _did _look thin. Her spine jutted out from her arched back, accented by her two shoulder blades and topped off by her overly bony shoulders. Her arms and legs were like sticks, topped off by twigs of fingers and toes. Jesse was able to bypass all of this calmly, but as he was washing her hair, he took in her collarbones and jutted cheekbones and nearly lost it. It pained him to see her like this; pained him to remember that no matter how many times he told her he loved her and no matter how many times they slept together she would still hate herself dearly. He was shaken out of the sad thoughts when the love of his life spoke, enquiring as to his most recent trip out of their home.

"Where were you?" Charlie sniffled, still wrapped in a tiny ball and curious as to the previous whereabouts of her boyfriend.

"I was with Mr. White," He began to explain, washing the shampoo out of her hair and applying conditioner. "He said no contact for awhile and he only gave me six hundred bucks."

He shook off a clump of hair that had come off of Charlie's head, grimacing and turning on the showerhead. He washed the soap off of the rest of her body, clenching his jaw as he worried about how the hell they were going to pay off their debt. As if to answer his question, his cellphone began to blare in his pocket, making Charlie jump as Jesse went to answer it. Unbeknownst to her, the people on the other end of the call were going to play a very big part in the disruption of her and Jesse's current future.

**|:|**

After her _Los Pollos _shift that morning, Charlie waited and lit a cigarette on a bench outside of the Law Offices, dutifully labeled 'Pierce, Wendell, Gardiner & Acevedo – Attorneys at Law'. It was not her first cigarette of the day and it would not be her last, as the particular situation Jesse had gotten himself into was a stressful one. His parents had called last night, announcing that they had discovered his 'laboratory' during an open house and wanted to take his aunt's house away from him. If they succeeded, this meant that Charlie and Jesse would be virtually homeless, having nothing left besides an RV stocked with a meth lab and their motorcycle to their name. She didn't know what to hope for; on one hand, the house was dragging them down further and further into debt, but on the other hand it was better than staying at the Crossroads motel for an unclear amount of time. So Charlie waited, hoping for nothing besides good health and emotional stability in her current time and place.

Jesse and his parents emerged from the building around twenty minutes later, the two older citizens not even giving Charlie the time of day and climbing into their car. She glared after them, wrapping a hand around Jesse's middle and accompanying him on the long walk home. After ten years of dating, she still grew frustrating with his family's lack of respect for her. It was one thing to be ignored, but to be gazed down upon like she was some sort of filth upset her. Granted, she received similar treatment from many of her friends back in high school when she receded into the drug world, but those people were different. They were trivial. The family of her boyfriend was something else entirely. On the plus side, however, there was the simple fact that Jesse was cast aside from the family and left to fend for himself, meaning that Charlie dealt with them only a small percentage of the time.

"They found the lab – they had a spare key all along," Jesse grumbled as they finally reached the house. "We've got three days to get outta here or they're callin' the cops on us."

Charlie nodded as confirmation that she had heard him, rubbing his upper back and wordlessly offering herself up as a distraction. They stopped in the hallway to lock lips, eventually making their way towards the bedroom where the door was slammed shut and clothing was discarded. Several hours passed until the creaking of the front door was heard, signaling Mrs. Pinkman's entrance, but Jesse was otherwise occupied with the naked girl above him who was sending his mind reeling into the furthest pits of pleasure.

"Shit…" The two twenty-year-olds groans were masked by the radio, blasting some obscene rap music and filling the room with the beautiful sound of bass. Neither was in a hurry to finish; their pace was lazy and their eyes drooped in pleasure, basking in the stench of pot and cigarettes.

"Goddamit…" Jesse trailed off as he watched his girlfriend ride him, mouth forming a perfect 'O' and nails scratching at his chest. "Fucking hell, Charlie -"

Mrs. Pinkman didn't know what pushed her to open the door at that exact moment, but she regretted it almost immediately. She had walked in on her son and Charlie sleeping together before, but after so much time had passed it was a shock to see them still at it like rabbits. She shrieked, shutting the door again and giving them time to dress and hide whatever paraphernalia they had. Charlie whipped her head around at the noise, dismounting her boyfriend and going to collect her clothing items while he discarded of any incriminating evidence. Unlike Mrs. Pinkman, they had a significant tolerance for these types of situations and weren't perturbed in the slightest. So when Mrs. Pinkman stepped back in the room, scrunching her nose up at the smell, they simply blinked question as to why she had bothered them before their seventy-two hours was up.

"You don't answer your phone?" She asked, not wanting to take another step into the room.

"No," Jesse shook his head, trying to clear it of whatever they had been smoking earlier. "I've just been pretty busy…how'd you – oh right, you have that key. Hey, listen. So I've been thinking a lot about our conversation we had the other day, and I completely get why Dad totally tweaked off on me like that and -"

"It's not just your father, Jesse," Mrs. Pinkman sighed, trying to ignore the girl lurking behind her son as he tried to come up with excuses.

"I know, I know," He nodded. "I'm just saying it's a really, really big wake-up call for me, which is why I wanted to talk to you. I've been thinking real seriously about business school, actually, and you can do the whole thing from your computer now, and -"

Jesse's mother had already started to shake her head in denial, not wanting to hear another word of nonsense spill out of his mouth. It was clear that he wasn't at all keen to change his lifestyle, and as far as Mrs. Pinkman was concerned it was sad to see two perfectly average people throw their lives away like Charlie and Jesse had done.

"No," Jesse gripped his mother by the shoulders. "Mom, mom – hey, this is good! You know, we're talking…starting a dialogue."

"The time for talking has passed, Jesse." Mrs. Pinkman moved away towards the door, where two movers walked by carrying wrapped up furniture.

"What the hell, yo?!" Jesse grew alarmed, turning to his mother in fury. Charlie tensed as the conversation heated up. "I thought it was just a wake-up call!"

"We are putting it in storage," His mother calmly tried to explain in her nasally tone. "When you decide to grow up, you can have it back."

"Why don't you grow up, mom?!" Jesse yelled, done with trying to reason with the woman. "Ginny wanted me here. I was the one who took care of her! I took her to her appointments and made her lunch ever day – I earned this!"

"You did not make her lunch every day," His mother scoffed, almost rolling her eyes at the white lie.

"That's right," Charlie butted in, jutting out her chin in defiance. "He didn't have to because _I _helped him."

Mrs. Pinkman turned to the girl, eyes flashing in anger but finding no words for her. It was true that Charlie had been very involved with Aunt Ginny; the cancer stricken woman had taken a liking to Jesse's flame and had talked to her about her issues on more than one occasion, causing a connection to be established between the two. Jesse's mother had never been fond of Charlie, which meant that she had in turn separated herself from her own sister when the two became involved.

"What did you do, huh?!" Jesse was again, in her face and yelling in frustration. "She's lying there dying, and where the hell are you?!"

"Don't start with me," Mrs. Pinkman's tone was threatening, attitude bordering on violent when Jesse continued to verbally abuse her.

"Now what," He scoffed, spreading his hands in disbelief while the movers carted off yet another piece of furniture. "You've decided to, I don't know, make your eldest son homeless?! Wow, great family mom -"

Suddenly there was a large crack as Mrs. Pinkman's hand shot out, smacking Jesse across his right cheek and going to rest against her side again. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, furious at her son for still deciding to ruin his own life and trying to drag everyone along with him.

"Why are you like this?!" She wailed, a pained expression marring her face. "Why?!"

It was quiet for several moments while Charlie situated herself in between the two, refusing to let any more harm come to her boyfriend. She watched as Mrs. Pinkman picked up a conjoint golden frame of Aunt Ginny, folding it up and holding it to her chest. It reminded Charlie of the way she held her Teddy Bear sometimes; like it was the only thing she had left. Perhaps that was the way that Mrs. Pinkman felt; as though her family – the only thing she had left – kept falling apart.

"You have two sets of keys and the padlock to the garage," Charlie could tell the woman was trying to hold back a sob. "Leave them on the kitchen counter when you leave."

"No!" Jesse bolted for the woman just as she was making her way out the door. "Mom! Mom, where are we supposed to go?!"

"I don't know, sweetheart," Mrs. Pinkman admitted, showing true signs of sympathy for the first time. "But please, turn your lives around."

At this remark, Jesse turned hostile once more and watched as his mother descended his stairs. "Yeah, this is gonna help big time with that, BITCH!"

"Hey," Charlie approached him with a soft tone and gentle hands, sitting him down and running her fingers through his hair. "Shh – we're gonna be fine."

Jesse dropped his head into his hands, swearing profusely. "How the hell do you figure that?"

"I have some cash in the bank – clean, right?" She assured him, working on the knots in his back that had grown in from the stress. "We've got enough to live. We still have the RV."

"That's true." Jesse was quiet for several moments before nodding, but he grew distracted with some noises from downstairs. "Start packin' – I gotta make some calls."

Charlie obeyed, beginning to place their usual essentials – hers were nothing more than cigarettes, a new cell phone and her Teddy Bear – into packs that would fit into the motorcycle's saddlebags. It was a useful vehicle, that was for sure, but it was going to have to be traded in for a car sooner rather than later. Bikes didn't come in handy after being kicked out of a house this size, and as far as she was concerned the only purpose for it was transportation. Yet, it was their last resort in a time like this, so she continued to pack the bags. She begun to carefully wrap Jesse's bong into one of his thick sweaters when a call came through on her cellphone.

"Hello?" Her stomach fluttered with nerves, a direct result of the anxiety that came with not owning caller ID.

_"__Hi Charlie," _Gus's smooth voice flowed through from the other end of the line, and the black haired girl released a long breath. _"I've got an evening shift for you that starts in half an hour. Can you make it?" _

"Yup!" Charlie chirped, more than happy at the chance to make several more bucks. "Of course! I'll be there soon!"

She hung up and was momentarily distracted by the sound of Jesse's furious yelling from downstairs, causing her to bolt from her spot near the mattress and down to where he was shouting at the movers. Everything in the house had been removed; all of the old furniture, food and fridge were gone, and Charlie wondered where her baking supplies would go whilst she tried to calm her boyfriend down. She was only able to do so after gripping his face against hers, locking their eyes and drawing a moment of silence.

"Listen to me," Her voice was soft and concentrated. "I have to go to work in half an hour. You're gonna to call all your friends and you're gonna ask them if we can stay at any of their places for awhile, and if all of them say no we're gonna go sleep in that stupid RV, okay? You're not gonna tell them anything about the drugs – say our house is being debugged. Don't freak out – just call."

It took a few seconds to process what she was saying, but Jesse found himself nodding eventually. "Y-yeah."

"Okay," She confirmed. "Tell me what you're gonna do."

"I'm gonna call everyone," He repeated, breaths coming out shaky and angry. "And if they all say no we're gonna sleep in the stupid RV."

Charlie nodded once, going to grab his box of belongings and attaching it to the back of his motorcycle. Her valuables were stuffed into her pockets, and although she knew that she would regret not bringing along more clothing, the simple fact that she could stuff everything that was mildly important to her in her pockets brought her a strange sort of comfort. The phone was essential for her to keep her job, Po was essential for her to keep her sanity, and the cigarettes helped with the drug withdrawal. She had around a hundred to her name, and was currently riding behind her drug-dealing boyfriend to be dropped of at _Los Pollos Hermanos _for a late night waitressing shift.

So, as far as Charlie was concerned, she had her life wrapped up in a tight little bundle for the time being.

**|:|**

Things didn't go much better once Charlie finished her shift. Jesse called her from a payphone, ranting about how the motorcycle had been stolen and how he was stranded at the Gas and Go with nothing left. Concerned about his ability to turn a situation like this into a reckless cluster fuck, she told him to meet up at Clovis's scrapyard where they would figure out a plan. It took her awhile to bus down to the sketchy neighborhood, but the minute she caught sight of Jesse it was clear he had already figured something out. He greeted her with a kiss, casually leaning against the chain link fence where, on the other side, a port a potty stood.

"That's your plan?" She scrunched her nose up at the portable toilet. "Jump the fence onto that thing?"

"Why not?" Jesse began to mount the metal.

"Hold on!" Charlie hissed, tugging him back down and pointing towards a stack of tires a couple feet away. "Safer."

The two easily clambered over the fence and landed safely onto the pile of tires, walking down the collection like stairs and making their way across the lot to the RV. Jesse quickly checked over all of the supplies once Charlie locked the door, making sure that none of his equipment had been messed with and that the barrel of methylamine was still intact. Finding everything in order, the two strapped gas masks to their faces, sank to the floor and wrapped themselves in their clothing; quiet until Charlie's slightly muffled voice uttered the two words that kept Jesse from falling apart.

"I love you."

He took her into his arms, allowing her to rest on his chest as a sort of pillow for the night and wrapping his arm around her shivering frame. Even the baggy sweatpants wouldn't keep her warm from the November cold, which seemed to be seeping into her bones and sticking onto them. Vowing to keep her warm, he flipped up the hoods on their sweaters and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you too."

**|:|**

"Hands up, assholes! So help me, I will spread you!"

Charlie and Jesse were woken the next morning by a violent scream, and panicked when they were faced with the barrel of a shotgun.

"No!" Jesse tugged his mask of, raising his hands. "Please, no! Alright – it's me, okay? It's Jesse, alright? Look, this is my RV. You towed it. Your cousin Badger, remember?"

Clovis lowered the shotgun after realizing that the two in front of him were the same junkies from several days earlier. Charlie tugged her own gas mask off and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, trying to remember exactly how many times she could safely assume she had been held at gunpoint in the last two weeks. The number was sure to be in the double digits, which was most definitely _not _a good thing.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Clovis grimaced at the two, slinging the gun over his shoulder.

"It's a long story," Jesse groaned, standing up and pulling Charlie with him, who stumbled and nearly fell forwards. Clovis frowned, taking a step back from the weary female who had begun to look rather pale.

"What's she on?"

"Nothing, man!" Jesse scoffed, assisting his girlfriend into a seated position against the wall. "It's just heroin withdrawal."

"Freaking junkie," Clovis shook his head; ignoring the sharp glare that Jesse sent his way and transferring his weight from leg to leg awkwardly. "So, I fixed up your felonious rolling laboratory here. Seven fifty for the repair. Plus the five hundred you already owe me, and you're good to drive on out of here to someplace far away, upwind."

"Here's the thing," Jesse tried to reason with the large man while Charlie keeled in pain at his feet. Her nausea and aches had begun to act up again. "I can't pay you today. But I can pay you this week, all right? Twelve hundred and fifty?"

"I thought your word was your bond," Clovis objected, swinging the shotgun around in his hands again and repeating what his cousin had told him.

"It totally is," Jesse digressed; nerves wracked thanks to the Mossberg 500 that Clovis couldn't seem to set down. "Definitely. I just don't have the money at this particular moment. But I will, soon."

"Here's my counter-offer," Clovis interrupted him, not wanting to hear any of his stories. "I kick you out – I take payment from your inventory…I know a guy that'll pay premium for this kind of crap."

"All right," Jesse tried to reason with the man once he spoke of selling his laboratory equipment, motioning to Charlie on the floor as he spoke. "Seventeen fifty. Two days – seventeen fifty. That's totally fair! Just don't take our cook stuff – that's all we've got left. Please, all right? We really – God, we really need a break here."

But his efforts were to no avail, as Clovis chucked the two out of the yard moments later and completely disregarded Charlie reeled on the floor. He padlocked the gate, ignoring Jesse's cries of complaint and going in his office to call his brother-in-law, inquiring as to just how much he could sell the methylamine for. What Clovis didn't notice as he sat down to chat with his relative about the exchange of illegal goods, however, was Jesse leading a clearly very sick looking Charlie back over the fence and into the RV. By the time they had revved the engine, Clovis was too late to stop them, and the two drove straight through his chain link fence onto the asphalt road. Jesse simply applied more pressure to the gas pedal, refusing to look back and leaving his friend's cousin to clean up the mess. Without even thinking, he drove straight to Mr. White's house and parked the large vehicle several feet behind his driveway.

"Charlie?" Jesse took the keys out of the ignition and tended to his fading girlfriend in the passenger seat. "Charlie! Listen to me! Listen to my voice - focus, baby!"

The girl's head lolled, and she let out a quiet groan while her eyes fought to stay open. Jesse knew her symptoms very well, but unfortunately to treat it he needed the one thing he had nothing of. Money. It turned out that Charlie's money in the bank had all been withdrawn, meaning that it was either a) it had been imaginary (she was rather good at that) or b) Charlie had most likely taken it out and stored it in her locker at work, in preparation to pick up a few grams of heroin after a long day sooner rather than later. Nevertheless, all this meant that they were out of money, and food was needed to support the sickness of opiate withdrawal, which meant that the two would have to wait for Mr. White until they took any further course of action. So Jesse continued to make sure that Charlie didn't fade from consciousness, snapping his fingers in front of her face and speaking words of comfort into her ear. It took a couple seconds, but their very angry ex-chemistry teacher emerged from his house seconds later just as Skylar White pulled out of the driveway in their red grand wagoneer. Walter approached the beaten down vehicle, banging on the door for access.

"Yo," Jesse began to apologize as he opened the side door of the vehicle. "I'm really sorry, okay?"

"What is wrong with you?" Walter growled menacingly as he climbed up into the RV.

"Listen," Jesse combed a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. Let's just say it starts with my parents being greedy kleptomaniac douchebags who -"

"Are you actually this stupid?" The older man groaned, trying to wrap his head around the kid's ignorance.

"No, look – I know this isn't an optimal -" Jesse began to explain, trying to motion to Charlie who was most likely passed out in the front seat.

"To come to my house," Walter roared, interrupting him. "And park on my street, driving this vehicle?! What the HELL is wrong with you?! I'm really asking."

"Nothing," Jesse muttered. "I'm sorry."

"I just -" Mr. White placed two hands on either side of his own head, as if to reiterate the possibility of his own mind imploding. "What if Skylar had seen you? What then? What was the plan then, genius?"

"I don't know," Jesse shrugged, out of answers and only wanting to help the girl he had left in the front seat.

"You know why you don't know?" Walter scoffed. "Because you don't think – that's why! You never figured out how to think!"

"I said I was sorry!" Jesse grew frustrated, beginning to vouch for himself once again. "I just need my half of the money, and I'll go, alright?"

"'Your half'?" Mr. White's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "There is no 'your half' of the money! There is only my 'all of it' - do you understand? Why should _I _be penalized because of your sloppiness?"

"Look, that is completely uncool, all right?" Jesse's tone grew in frustration as he realized that Mr. White intended to keep all of his cash. "We agreed, fifty fifty partners."

"Partners in what?" Walter questioned in fury. "What exactly do you do here? I've been meaning to ask – because I'm the producer, right? I cook. But from what I can tell, you are just a drug addict. You are a pathetic junkie; too stupid to understand and follow simple rudimentary instructions while your girlfriend slowly dies right in front of you. Too stupid to re -"

Suddenly the older man was tackled to the ground by a very angry Jesse, who was sick of hearing all of the crap that he had already been told by his parents, fellow students and teachers flow out of Mr. White's mouth. He was tired of being told of how much of a failure he was; sick of everyone telling him that he was going nowhere in life and was the saddest thing they'd ever seen. He was tired of everyone talking down to him and Charlie for all the choices they had made, and treating them like the scum of the earth while they made all the 'right decisions' in life. And last but not least, he was tired of being treated like the thirty percent partner in he and Mr. White's agreement. So Jesse straddled his old teacher to prove his point, gripping him around the neck until he turned blue and only relenting when he felt that the man understood where he was coming from. Mr. White hadn't gone through the same things that he had gone through in the past week. He hadn't been homeless and living off of eighty dollars; he had never had all of his personal belongings either stolen or taken from him, and he certainly hadn't ever been in a serious relationship with a heroin user. Jesse flopped to the side, ending up on the ground beside Mr. White and virtually giving up for several moments before panting out,

"Charlie's sick."

Mr. White coughed several times, looking towards his former student. "What?"

"Charlie," Jesse grimaced at the ache in his upper back as he rose from his spot on the floor, helping his chemistry teacher up. "She hasn't eaten in like, two days, man. We had no money – no food."

Jesse traveled towards the front of the vehicle and took the unconscious dark haired girl into his arms, looking up at Mr. White desperately. He was their last resort; if he refused to take them in they had nowhere left else to go but a homeless shelter. At least at the Salvation Army there was a chance of free bread. But alas, to Jesse's surprise, Mr. White motioned for him to follow, and he was lead inside the house to tend to his girlfriend's needs. She roused easily when Mr. White pressed a cold rag to her forehead, and after drinking some water she could sit up with Jesse's assistance. It took a granola bar and Po to get her to sit at the kitchen table, Jesse coaxing her along with the promise of a cigarette once they got back outside. Charlie's brain was still foggy, rendering her nervous and uncomfortable with the unfamiliarity of her surroundings.

"Want some breakfast?" Mr. White offered, firing up the stovetop.

Jesse had pulled up a chair beside his girlfriend, and pressed his forehead against the side of her face while he begged her to eat some more. "Charlie – just a couple bites. You've gotta get some food in you."

Mr. White sighed, again being reminded of the child-like twenty year olds stubbornness and pouring eggs into the pan. He left the two kids to themselves, figuring that if anyone could get Charlie Macey to put food in her mouth it was Jesse Pinkman. He had distinct flashbacks of performing cafeteria duty on their lunch period back at JP Wynne, remembering Jesse practically spoon feeding his girlfriend on good days and fighting with her about her intake on bad days. The situation hadn't changed much besides the fact that he hadn't seen them in a single argument since they had regrouped. In fact, Mr. White mused with a smile on his face, it was rather remarkable how the two got along. For a meth-addicted drug dealer and an equally addicted – if not more so – problematic virtually homeless anorexic with nothing valuable to her name besides a Teddy Bear, it was amazing how the two didn't get into spats at all.

Mr. White shook the thoughts from his head, dropping vegetables into the swift cooking eggs and vaguely recognizing the sound of Charlie's sniffles from behind him. Turning one more time, he witnessed a sight that he was sure would tug on the heartstrings of any parent. Charlie was curled into Jesse's lap, hugging Po close to her chest and sobbing silently into his neck. His chin was rested atop her head, eyes closed and jaw clenched with his right hand wrapped around her body and left hand stroking her hair meticulously. It was the perfect scene to describe comfort at it's finest; a visual dictionary definition for the word 'affection', or 'caring' – perhaps even 'relief'. But in Mr. White's mind, he could think of only one word to describe his two former students in front of him.

Love.


	5. Breakage

**'****Breakage'**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pulp Fiction or any of its characters/lines! (This chapter includes a particular line that some of you may or may not recognize…) **

**…****I also do not own Airwick….**

**A/N: Sorry about the slow update! I've been switching schools so it's a bit hectic with all the paperwork and interviews and getting lost and stuff, but I'll try to move things along quicker from now on. Also, please be warned about some of the content in this chapter when Charlie has one of her panic attacks…I draw the experience from my own anxiety disorder and from what I've noticed with my friends and family, the way I describe it can get pretty disturbing. So…trigger warning on this one. **

Clovis Mayhew stared in disbelief as the beaten down RV that had broken out of his gate a mere 48 hours earlier came rolling into his lot. He watched as a very nervous looking Jesse Pinkman hopped out of the drivers seat, brushing his hand on an equally nervous looking Charlie's shoulder. She stayed put, wide-eyed and alert, while her boyfriend crept around the side of their vehicle to speak with his larger male counterpart.

"You've got some nerve coming around here," Clovis set down his wielding tools with a grunt. "Or you're even dumber than I thought. Maybe both."

Jesse ignored his comments, handing out a wad of cash. "Balance for the tow, the repairs, and extra for, you know, damages and stuff to the gate. Look, like I said, my word is my bond."

Clovis seemed uncertain about the money being offered for a couple of seconds, but after some internal struggle took the cash and quickly stuffed it in his pocket. The two were silent until Jesse motioned to his vehicle once again.

"What would you charge me to store this here?"

"A million-five," Clovis responded without missing a beat, against the idea of allowing Jesse anywhere near his property ever again.

"Come on, yo," Jesse complained. "Dawg, I'm serious, all right? I got storage needs. And I got scratch up front. We could, you know, negotiate."

Clovis again seemed to struggle internally before crossing his arms and proposing an offer. "Five hundred."

"A month?"

"A week." Clovis shook his head.

"For real?" Jesse made a face, tilting his head in exhaustion.

"See ya," The large man turned, expecting the younger kid to scoff and drive away in anger.

"Wait," Jesse held out his hands to stop him. "Just hold on. Chill – okay? Sounds good. Totally doable."

"Outside." Clovis returned, scrunching his face up once again upon realizing that he wasn't going to get rid of his little junkie customer so easily.

"Inside."

"Forget it." There was no way Clovis was going to risk his business by allowing a meth lab to be stored in his lot, even if he was getting five hundred a week from it.

"Man, come on!" Jesse complained yet again, imploring the man to listen to what he had to say. "Your fence is too easy to climb. Inside, padlocked, plus gate privileges."

"Come again?"

"Gate, in and out, privileges."

"Month to month," Clovis finally agreed, wanting to get rid of the kid even if it was just for today. He could feel a headache coming on and the last thing anyone needed was to negotiate with a pissed-off 200-pound male. "Cash up front. Inside. And I don't know you; I don't know jack."

Jesse nodded and counted out another five hundred for the man, paying him for the month to get rid of any unwanted stress or lunatic chasing him around for cash that he wouldn't have. The larger man still looked unsettled as he watched him pull out the money, but nonetheless accepted the payment and stayed quiet.

"You selling?" Jesse pointed towards a blue 1969 Camaro, wishful thoughts crossing his mind.

"I'll let you take it for nine G's." Clovis counted the money that had just been handed to him and placed it in his pocket with the rest of the cash.

Suddenly there was a knock on the window, prompting both men to flip their heads towards the noise and make eye contact with the black haired female sitting inside the RV. She was pointing frantically towards something, other hand on the glass and a large grin on her face. Jesse followed her eyesight and was met with a bright red 1986 Toyota Tercel. The two had always liked the colour red, whether it was cars or clothing or decorations, so naturally Charlie was drawn to the vehicle. Jesse found himself smiling in turn at her antics, and looks up at Clovis questioningly.

"What about that one?"

"You serious?"

**|:|**

"You sure this is the right address?" Charlie glanced at the paper Jesse held in his hands, trying to focus on the tiny script while Johnny Ringo blared in her ears. The new car was wonderful – it was nice to be able to commute normally again, and Charlie's feet got tired after awhile – but the two couldn't seem to figure out how to shut up the radio system. It seemed to be stuck on a colossal noise level, meaning that they would either have to sit through obnoxious songs or suffer in silence with no music at all.

"Yeah," Jesse frowned, flipping off the radio and sliding out of the creaking car. Charlie followed in his lead, gripping her Teddy bear and taking his hand as he rang the doorbell.

"How ya feelin'?" Her boyfriend turned to her while they waited for movement in the house.

"Bit better," Charlie shrugged, smiling up at him and scratching at her left arm. Several sores had developed near her track marks, which were far from infected but still looked ghastly up close. Before Jesse could admonish her for picking at her wounds, the door swung open and they were greeted with a heavier, shorter-haired version of Charlie. The two girls gazed at each other for a quick second, before breaking out into laughter and embracing. Jesse stared on as they re-acquainted themselves, not knowing what to say or what to ask first.

"Jane!" Charlie grinned, happy to see her friend after so long. "I didn't know you were into real estate."

"Dad's place," The girl rolled her eyes, motioning to the pad behind her. "He's letting me sell it."

"Nice," The shorter female nodded, still smiling with leftover surprise. "Looks sweet. So how've you been doin'? I haven't seen you in awhile!"

"I've been okay – really tired actually," Jane sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "I've got this one client that won't shut up and it's taking me days to finish his back piece."

"Is it Mark?"

They both snorted, remembering the obnoxious, overweight Lord of The Rings fan that had come in several times for a 'touch up' in Jane's parlor, when instead the two knew perfectly well that he was there to make sexual advances on the poor girl. Since she couldn't kick him out or deny payment, Jane had been forced to sit through uncomfortable sessions while the fanatic threw pick up line after pick up line at her.

"Who's this?" Jane jutted her chin out towards Jesse, who had been silent throughout the whole ordeal.

"Oh!" Charlie had almost forgotten about her boyfriend, who was still visibly confused about how exactly his girlfriend knew the realtor of a house he had located in the newspaper. "Jesse, this is Jane – I know her from Scott and she did a few of my tattoos. Jane, this is my boyfriend, you know the one I was telling you that broke my pipe?"

"Oh come on!" Jesse laughed, tilting his head back in disbelief at the memories. "That one time! You love bringing up that one time!"

"It was a nice pipe," Charlie grumbled, crossing her arms and sniffing indignantly.

Jane's shoulders shook in laughter as she led them inside, ushering them towards the kitchen and giving them a quick tour of the one floor duplex housing unit. It was a nice little place, although there was no denying that it looked like the environment a drug user would enjoy. The shades were all drawn, casting an eerie glow to bounce off of the sad white walls. The duplex itself, however, flowed nicely room after room, and provided a tiny safe haven. The size was ideal for a situation like Charlie and Jesse's, which prompted him to place an offer down.

"It's Jane, right?" He leaned against one of the pillars attached to the countertop. "Well, Jane, I gotta say -"

"- this place is awesome!" Charlie interrupted, running the sink water and finding it perfectly streamlined. Their old tap back at Aunt Ginny's house had been lopsided and a strange shade of 'white', so it was considered satisfying to the small girl when she noted how clear all of the facilities were.

"Really?" Jane snorted. "Does it inspire awe?"

"Nah, I mean – it's great," Charlie grinned, going to stand beside her boyfriend and take his hand again. "Just what we've been looking for. That's what I meant."

"We had an entire house before," Jesse fervently explained, trying to dispel any suspicion about their current state of homelessness. "Detached and all, but we were just tired of all the lawn care and upkeep and whatnot, yknow?"

Jane nodded, shrugging her shoulders and ignoring the inconspicuous excuses. "Well," She continued. "The blinds are new. Everything's been painted."

Charlie nodded, bouncing along the edge of the counter and pressing a button near the sink, which switched on the garbage disposal. The three jumped at the sudden noise, but Jane quickly redirected the sale towards the bedroom, bathroom and included utilities. It was revealed that high-speed cable, Internet and hardwood floors were all new instalments, and after several minutes of nodding along and pretending to understand her realtor terms, the three found themselves back in the kitchen where they had started.

"So?" Jane smiled at the two. "You interested?"

"Definitely," Jesse nodded, eager to get himself and his girlfriend off the streets as soon as possible.

"And you're good with NPNS?" Jane questioned, taking out some sheets from the kitchen drawer and placing a pen beside them.

"Sorry, what?" Charlie tilted her head at her friend in confusion.

"No smoking, no pets," Jane clarified. "You want to smoke, you do it outside."

"It's cool," Jesse spoke for the both of them. "No worries."

"Alright," Jane smiled, moving forwards with the purchase. "The usual drill – I'll need a W-2 or a recent pay stub, current employer, former address, you know, the yadda-yadda. And if it's all-copasetic, I'll call."

Charlie quickly unfolded the papers she had been carrying around in her pocket, handing them to her friend and biting her lip in anxiety. Giving her information meant that technically the house was under her name, which meant that if Jesse got busted, any legal issues involving the location of the prime suspect would trace back to her. There was also the small problem of payment, as the amount of cash needed to rent the place currently lay in Jesse's hands in the form of bills. As soon as Jane's eye caught the wad of money, she began to shake her head.

"Look, the thing is -" Jesse started to argue,

"Unbelievable," A small smirk was forming on her face, and Charlie opened her mouth to protest but not before Jesse could butt in and explain further.

"We're currently in-between situations, but I got the money and I'm totally for it for, like, ever. Come on, yo – please!"

Jane huffed, crossing her arms and shaking her head again. She liked Charlie, but was torn over whether or not to accept money from her drug-dealing boyfriend. She knew what Charlie went through in the relationship and although she could see the love, she was uncertain about where it would end up going. Jane was also aware of how much damage Jesse could do to those around him involved in his sketchy business. However, she recognized that they needed help and after some negotiation (and an explanation from Jesse's part) she let them sign for the duplex for another hundred.

"And," Jesse added as Charlie signed the papers, her spider legs fingers creating messy scrawls. "In addition to first and last, we want two more months."

"'DBAA' fee," Jane quoted as if she had heard it all before. "Nonrefundable."

"Of course," Jesse stuttered, looking between the two females with a quirked brow. "Obviously…what's 'DBAA'?"

"'Don't Be An Asshole'," Charlie explained without taking her eyes off of the papers, scratching her nose and signing several more documents for her friend. Jane smiled knowingly, and then shifted a stern gaze upon the couple.

"I live next door," She cleared her throat. "And don't think for one second you have squatters' rights, because you don't. If you blow this, I want you gone. I'll have your skinny asses out back by the dumpster faster than you can blink."

"That's the Jane I know," Charlie grinned, handing over her finished forms and exchanging a sarcastic handshake with the now smiling woman. The three exchanged goodbyes and parted ways, but not after their new realtor made sure to give the couple a basic rundown on how the dryer worked. She assumed – based on their backgrounds and previous living styles – that they had no idea how to use fully functioning mechanical cleaning apparatuses. She was correct in her musings, as both Charlie and Jesse seemed equally puzzled by the large vibrating machine and all of it's buttons. Jane, however, was extremely patient, and guided them through the proper usage before making sure that they had the keys for the evening. The couple was then left by themselves, awkwardly out of place and virtually bound to sleep on the floor for the evening.

"Well," Jesse sighed tiredly, pulling his hat off as the door slammed shut behind Jane. "I'm gonna go take a fuckin' shower."

Before he could turn and leave, however, a familiar tiny hand situated itself in his and gave a small tug. Upon turning, he found Charlie with a sultry grin on her face, pulling him back towards her.

"Baby," She sang. "Since we're short on cash, don't you think it's in our best interest to conserve water?"

His eyes lit up at her brilliant suggestion, laughing despite the absolute horrors they had witnessed in the last two weeks. Charlie had become his normal; so much so that he found himself developing nerves when she wasn't by his side. She made him a better version of himself; made him care and put an effort into what he did with himself. She also provided a purpose, home and comfort, which were the three qualities Jesse tended to hang onto the most. Occasionally one of them preferred to have some time alone and think to themselves, but other than those rare moments they were glued at the hip. Ten years of this type of contact meant that Charlie and Jesse knew each other like the back of their own hands, which in turn meant that their ability to read each other mirrored that of a set of twins.

So when she began to pull him towards the shower, Jesse didn't hesitate or protest at all.

**|:|**

A soft buzzing was the only noise that echoed throughout the duplex the next morning, and it was the noise that woke a very groggy Charlie from her spot on the floor. Her blurry eyesight lined up with the vibrating phone halfway across the room, and she untangled herself from her boyfriend's limbs to go reach it. The army-crawl wasn't the quickest way to reach the moving cellular device, but nevertheless Charlie was able to grasp it and shut the damn thing off before it made any more noise. She swiftly moved to the bathroom, wincing at the soreness between her legs and going to grab her pink toothbrush lying on the side of the sink. After their little escapade in the shower, her and Jesse had scooted off to the grocery store to buy several essentials needed for the night, which mostly included a week's worth of groceries, cigarettes and toiletries. Charlie smiled as she recalled how much fun it had been to run around the supermarket trying to find specific things to put in the cart; to her it seemed like a big game.

"Charlie?" Jesse's sleepy tone echoed off of the empty walls.

"In here puddin'," Charlie spat out her toothpaste, doing her best imitation of Harley Quinn and running the tap to wash her face. "Good morning!"

"G'morning," Her boyfriend yawned, leaning against the doorframe and watching her comb through her hair. "I gotta go cook today."

"I know," Charlie winced as she pulled out a clump and tossed it in the trashcan with a grimace. When she didn't say anything else, Jesse continued to inform her of the next several events that would be occurring throughout the day.

"Skinny, Combo and Badger are stoppin' by later," He rubbed a hand on his face, venturing back towards the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. "And we gotta find some more clothes!"

"I know!" Charlie skipped across the duplex, planting a kiss on her boyfriend's lips and grabbing her set of keys off of the windowsill. "I'll see you tonight!"

They took separate cars, since Charlie had to be at work in ten minutes and Jesse could make the short walk to Clovis's yard by himself to fetch the RV. Both made their deadlines in time, and after an entire day of making both grilled chicken and methamphetamine, they met back up at the house at the desired time. Charlie with her pockets full of tips, and Jesse smelling like disinfectant. Charlie went in to greet him with a kiss, and began to giggle when she recognized the scent.

"You smell like you just got out of surgery," She laughed, unlocking the door to their duplex and shaking her head. "What happened to the cat piss and rotten eggs?"

"Mr. White wants it to be clean," Jesse explained, copying her head movements. "Man's got his reasons. If I had kids I wouldn't wanna come home smellin' like a meth lab."

Charlie paused for a moment at the mention of children; locking the door behind her and watching her boyfriend go to grab the pretzels and soda. The topic of children wasn't new to them – they had dabbled on the idea of children's names on several of their rare dates – but Charlie was always too insecure to question him further about how he would feel. It was strange; she had very little bashfulness about asking anything else of him – hell, when she was still getting her period she would send him out on tampon and chocolate runs – but for some reason, the topic of children made Charlie a nervous wreck around her boyfriend.

"H-hey, uhm…" She stumbled on her words before regaining control of the situation. "Wanna hear a joke?"

"Sure," Jesse's mouth curved into a smirk as he poured the pretzels, always ready to hear one of Charlie's lines. "Fire away."

"Okay," She smiled; going to place the cash underneath the sink where they had agreed to keep a stash and beginning to recite the familiar joke. "Three tomatoes are walking down the street – a poppa tomato, a momma tomato and a little baby tomato. The baby tomato starts lagging behind. The poppa tomato gets angry, goes over to the baby tomato, and smooshes him…then he says – 'ketchup'!"

"Baby," Jesse snorted, giving his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek. "I'm not sure, but I think that might be plagiarized."

"Oh shush," Charlie cooed, going to preheat the oven in preparation for their friend's arrival. It was assumed that the boys would want a batch of her cookies, and she had been planning on making a batch for Jane anyway, so she felt no shame in laying out copious amounts of ingredients across the kitchen counter.

Minutes later, just as she had begun to roll out the dough, the arrival of her friends was signalled by several knocks on the door. Jesse opened it cautiously, reminding the lot that no matter where any of them were situated, it was never completely safe.

"Enter our casa," Jesse greeted each of his friends with a chest bump and fist, grinning madly.

"Cool crib, man! It echoes!" They complimented him, going to greet Charlie behind the countertop and growing excited at the prospect of cookies. She avoided the larger male's dark sweaters with her flour-covered hands, instead embracing them awkwardly with her biceps.

"She's makin' the good ones!" Combo's eyes grew wide as he caught sight of the Hershey's bag. "The ones with the peanut butter chips!"

Charlie giggled, laugh echoing across the foyer and instantly lighting Jesse's face up. His bright blue eyes lightened with renewed vigor, and as Skinny Pete turned to look at him, even he couldn't deny the fact that his friend was completely smitten. Charlie and Jesse's relationship was nuts to everyone on the outside; who had ever heard of a girlfriend that sat dutifully by and baked cookies whilst her boyfriend talked about his meth business right beside her? And what sort of girlfriend in their right mind wouldn't call the police on him? But to the two on the inside, the sorts of behaviors were like a walk in the park. Totally normal; insane to everyone but them.

"Let me give you a virtual tour," Jesse ripped his eyes away from his black haired angel, who had continued to mix the ingredients together after smiling lovingly towards him. "Plasma is gonna go right here – probably, like, a 50-inch wall-mounted."

"Plasma rocks it over LCD, yo," Skinny Pete began to argue.

"Nah," Combo shook his head. "They burn in yo. Blacks are deeper, too."

"But the pictures, like, way sharper!" Skinny Pete shot back as Combo shrugged.

"They got 3-D comin' out, like, any day now," Badger's suggestive tone creeped into the conversation, and Charlie found herself suspecting exactly where the boys' conversation was going to turn. "That's what I'm waitin' for…PORN, cuz'!"

The solitary female rolled her eyes as she separated the dough into small circles, placing them on the many trays and loading them into the oven. She continued to do so as Jesse fervently tried to change the topic before it got awkward, telling his friend more about the furniture that they would buy and blabbering on about candles and zero-gravity chairs. Eventually, the conversation shifted as to how exactly Jesse would _make _all of this money, and that was when the topic turned serious.

"There's some refreshments over here," Jesse pushed his friends towards the countertop. "If you wanna partake."

"You got any other refreshments?" Combo raised a brow, silently questioning for Jesse's famous substance.

"I could kick it," Pete agreed. "It's been awhile."

"I could totally go for a lovin' spoonful," Badger laughed, joining in with his friends' antics.

"No bomb, no beer, no weed," Jesse put his foot down, surprising his friends and causing them to stand up a little straighter in recognition that their old pal was serious. "You smoke it up on your own time; we're talkin' business here. So listen up, this is how it goes: I front each of you an ounce. You sell it for twenty five hundred, I keep the two, you keep the five. No cutting it. You sell it as is, all right?"

"Twenty five hundred an ounce? That's kinda, like, hopeful bro." Combo grimaced, eyeing Charlie as she bent down to check on the cookies and pouring himself more soda.

"Yeah Jesse," Skinny Pete chimed in, looking between him and Badger. "Street's maybe like 17 – 18?"

"Alright," Jesse lifted both hands up, not wanting to heart excused. "This is the best shiz _ever_. Everybody and their mother's gonna want a taste. And second, who else is sellin' right now, huh?"

"It's dry out there, that's for sure." Pete admitted.

"Church," Combo agreed.

"So you point it how you want, okay?" Jesse offered. "Quarter, half, teener, whatever. But I make what I make. Two large. NO exceptions. Short me, you're out. Cut it, you're out. Period. This is a big opportunity I am giving you. Understand?"

Badger seemed to have a bit of trouble comprehending what was asked of him, so Jesse was about to retrace his steps until a feminine yelp distracted him from his train of thought. It was Charlie, who had burnt herself trying to remove the top tray of cookies from the stove. She was now clutching at her red skin, cursing like a sailor and bouncing slightly in pain. Jesse was by her side in a mere second, running the tap water and wrapping her finger in the cold cloth before removing the cookies himself and moving back towards his friends. Like a child, after receiving a kiss on the cheek she obediently moved away from the stove and sat quietyl, peering at the boys with her wide eyes.

"Badger," He clarified, looking towards his obviously still partially stoned friend. "What is this?"

"A big opportunity," The younger boy swallowed a wad of pretzels.

"Exactly," Jesse nodded. "All right? This is the ground floor. Gentlemen, how far you go is up to you."

Charlie quietly ran her finger under the tap again, smiling deviously. She enjoyed listening to Jesse talk about business; it was like an alter ego of his had popped into place and for a second, he was a different person. He sounded responsible; like a businessman or an important tycoon of some sort.

"So bring out the product, yo!" Badger's exclamation pulled her out of her thoughts, and she shut off the tap to go find a Band-Aid while her cookies cooled.

"Not here, all right?" Jesse eyed his girlfriend as she disappeared into the bathroom. "Not ever. Blind drop. I will let you know when and where. All right? You'll be hearing from me. Now, I got mad volume, so you move it quick, you move it right, there is always more. 'D.B.A.A', mofos. Alright? Apply yourselves."

"And you guys better finish all that soda," Charlie had made her way back into the kitchen, a Band-Aid now stuck on her finger. "We don't drink that shit."

"Oh," Badger laughed. "The irony."

**|:|**

Since half of the recently baked batch of cookies had been devoured by Combo the previous evening, Charlie only had a tray and a half to leave to Jane as a small thank you from she and Jesse. It was the least she could do after the huge favor that Jane had been so kind as to perform. Allowing two drug-involved miscreants to live in your apartment duplex was most likely not on her father's list of 'reliable customers', so the risk was large. It didn't help that both were avid smokers, meaning that after a month or so, the 'smoking indoors' rules would grow lenient, and Jane would explain to her father about blaming Airwick for not being able to enforce her rules properly. Either way, Jane had taken a leap of faith, and Charlie was currently transporting a box of cookies at nine o'clock in the morning to thank her for it. Her friend answered the door slightly bleary-eyed, but still accepted the cookies with a large grin and a tight hug, brightening Charlie's day at the fact that she had made at least one person smile.

With a new ball of happiness settled deep in her stomach, she bounced off to work humming a foreign tune. Since Jesse needed the car for him and his boys throughout the day, she was forced to take the bus and commute like the rest of Albuquerque did that morning. Not that Charlie minded; she enjoyed watching the people get on and off the stops at every corner. It was amusing for her to make up stories like she and Jesse did on their dates – a new adventure for every man, woman and child was a sure way to spice up any dull morning in their lives. By the time she arrived at _Los Pollos_, she was thoroughly bemused by her own creative ability and ended up finding herself in a better mood all throughout her first shift. The rainbows and sunshine, however, would soon spiral downhill.

The nasty afternoon started with a pair of truckers who had parked their vehicles at the very back of the _Los Pollos _parking lot, and were clearly planning on staying at the restaurant for a while. Charlie already had bad feelings brewing in her stomach when she caught sight of the two lunkheads strolling into Mr. Fring's establishment, and they didn't get any better upon recognition that it was her turn to wait the table. To place the two rough looking gentlemen on her other female counterpart, Mary, wouldn't have been fair, so Charlie was forced to take the two's orders down. It wasn't until their food arrived that the harassment started. It began with dirty comments, asking for strange amounts of water and making passes to grab at her backside as she turned away. When they called for her again, she would be forced to plaster a smile on her face and continue to serve them water until one of them got up to pee and the other was too nervous to make any remarks unless his 'buddy' was sitting beside him. The third time the disturbing chain of events cycled through, Charlie alerted her superior, who called Gus to the scene.

"What seems to be the issue?" His pointed gaze was fixed upon his smallest female employee, who looked rather shaken.

"T-those two guys," She stuttered, gestured behind her where the two truckers were still consuming their fries. "They k-kept talking about my boobs, a-a-and -"

Gus held up a hand, smiling comfortingly and motioning for Charlie to follow his lead. He made is way across the restaurant, drawing some attention from the other patrons and employees. Once he had situated himself at a safe distance from the two large men, he began to issue what was considered a formal warning to the two rowdy customers.

"Oh honey," One of the two guffawed, neither getting up from their seats after Gus had warned them. "You told on us?"

"That's too damn bad," The shaggy haired driver rose to his feet, glaring down threateningly at Mr. Fring. "I really thought she was gonna _shut up _and fuck us later."

"That's enough," Gus repeated himself, flinching at his own tone. "I am going to have to ask you two to leave my establishment, or I will have to resort to phoning the police."

The men growled, glaring at the restaurant owner with beady, narrowed eyes and wolfing down the rest of their food. Gus huffed and began to turn, nodding towards Charlie who followed closely behind. It seemed like the two offenders were going to turn and leave, but before Charlie knew it, she was being violently groped in a last ditch effort by the two bigger men to get their last shot in. She shrieked, clawing at their hands and digging her nails into the slimy hands that were traveling over her body. Gus pulled her away in a split second, holding his own cell phone threateningly out in between a trembling Charlie and the trucker.

"Out!" He barked, refusing to loose his cool any more so. "I am filing a formal incident report – my employees have already tagged your vehicles."

The two men quickly exited the restaurant after having heard the owner's statement, swearing violently and gesturing rudely. Mr. Fring turned to the other patrons, apologizing profusely and leading Charlie back behind the counter.

"Did he hurt you?"

The girl shook her head furiously, tears welling up in her eyes as she tried to block the ebbing memories in her mind. It didn't take a fool to realize that this had happened to her several times before. Gus, however, didn't press the issue, and after filing an incident report and calling in to the police, sent Charlie home early on the first bus passing by. She was encouraged to 'take time to rest and recuperate', but they both knew fully well that it was for her own safety. In the case that the two truckers came back, having Charlie at the establishment wasn't a viable option, and so Gus was forced to remove her until the police tracked the two gentlemen down.

As soon as she got home, Charlie burst into tears and collapsed onto the foyer as every single memory she had been trying to block out forced themselves back in. The utter terror and fear that came alongside memories of molestation, rape and abuse were indescribable, and her wobbly knees no longer supported her shaking frame as she continued to sob on the floor. There was nothing she could do but cry; nothing in the world could have made her feel better at that very moment, and the one person who could have possibly made the moment any more bearable was otherwise occupied. Charlie didn't blame him for selling; in fact she was glad that he wasn't there to see the pathetic, blubbering mess that she had become in the living area of their new duplex. She was glad that he couldn't see how truly low she could sink. She was glad that he didn't have to see her in her most wretched states. She was glad that he -

"Charlie?!"

And suddenly, she was glad that he was home.

"Oh, Charlie..." She was engulfed in Jesse's warm frame, taken into someone's arms and packaged up like a tiny gift. "Your boss got my number – baby, I'm so sorry."

She could do nothing but emit little whimpers, taking handfuls of his shirt and bundling them up into fists as she continued to cry. There was nothing in Charlie's mind but a mix of panic and the carnal urge to escape, and for the next several minutes she would see nothing but blurry shapes. Anxiety was the epitome of fear; a dreadful monster of a disorder that jumped on her back when she thought she was in the clear and pounced on her in the moments that she needed it the least. The intensity of the darkness that plagued her mind was enough to make her want to jump in front of a train at that very moment, but the force that was preventing her from doing so was the one thing that she had established was left to live for. Jesse wouldn't let go, no matter how much she screamed against his chest and quaked with trembles. Her tiny fists, which were previously tangled in his clothing, were now pounding against his sternum, twitching strangely and shivering in their wake. He flinched and held her tighter as she let out a blood-curling scream, clutching at the back of her head and biting into his collarbone. These particularly loud attacks only came once in awhile, and after what had happened to her at _Los Pollos _that afternoon, the last thing on Jesse's mind was to blame her for taking it so hard. There was a choked cut-off sob, and he was able to vaguely recognize the word 'stop' before it faded into muttered pleadings, which he recognized as Charlie begging with her own brain to stop the flow of past emotions. The amount of emotional baggage that she carried was too tiring to deal with in one attack, so to distract her from passing out or trying anything stupid (he had dealt with one too many suicide attempts and he wasn't planning on losing her) he began to rub a rhythm out on her thigh. It was a tactic that they were both familiar with; touch was always an effective communication tool when neither one of them were listening to each other's voices. Eventually her breathing showed significant signs of decrease, and her hands loosened their grip on his shirt collar, allowing Jesse some breathing room.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and a very concerned Jane appeared seconds later with her spare key in tow. Her eyes caught Charlie's huddled form contained in Jesse's arms in the corner of the room, which she assumed had been the culprit of the noise, and she approached the two cautiously without saying a word. Jesse began to mouth words to her, trying to get her to tread cautiously and stay as quiet as possible. Jane nodded, concerned for her friend and silently questioning Jesse if there was anything that she could do at the moment.

"Go get her bear," He uttered softly, tilting his chin towards the countertop where Po sat near the microwave. Jane obeyed; handing him the toy seconds later and watching him place it in between Charlie's hands. Seconds later, the girl shuddered and gripped the stuff animal closer to her chest. Jane left the two alone with a final sad smile, shutting the door behind her softly.

It took several more minutes for Charlie's brain to finally process what had happened, and she promptly fell asleep in her boyfriend's arms while he continued to stroke her thigh meticulously. There was nothing else he could do but lay her down on their makeshift bed, which consisted of several cheap sleeping bags and some pillows stacked in the middle of their bedroom. He let her rest for several hours, accepting the fact that she wouldn't be up until much later in the evening and it was in his best interest to keep himself busy until then. Jesse sighed as he lit a cigarette on the back porch, trying to amuse himself by blowing smoke rings and betting on the hour that Charlie would rise out of bed.

As it turned out, his sicker forms of entertainment would soon be interrupted by a rather unpleasant dilemma, which presented itself in the form of his cell phone ringing loudly in his right pocket.

"Hey man," Skinny Pete's hollowed tone murmured from the other end of the line. "We got a problem…"

**|:|**

"I wasn't sure it was you," Walter noted as his 2004 Pontiac Aztek pulled up alongside Jesse's red vehicle the next morning. The older man dually noted Charlie in the passenger seat beside him, curled up and gazing towards him curiously. He gave her a curt nod of the head, trust already established and used to seeing her in these sorts of situations by now. "New car?"

"Keeping things on the D.L," Jesse nodded, hood pulled up over his hat. Mr. White did have to admit, the two looked like the sketchiest couple Albuquerque could offer. Charlie looked like she was just coming off of a very long meth binge, and Jesse could pass for some sort of lowlife gangster any day.

"I'm guessing this one doesn't bounce?" Mr. White smiled sarcastically.

"Your half – fifteen," Jesse grunted, grabbing the paper bag that Charlie handed him and handing it to Walter. "That's what I'm talking about – you're welcome. Jesus."

"Help me understand the math, okay?" Mr. White frowned as he checked inside the bag, prompting Jesse to roll his eyes and prepare himself for another one of his speeches. "I gave you one pound, correct? You and I split two thousand per ounce – that means one thousand each. Not fifteen."

"Something came up," Jesse admitted.

"'Something came up'?" His ex-chemistry teacher quoted, still believing that there was no room for mistakes.

"One of my guys got held up by a couple junkies," Jesse began to explain, trying to assure his partner. "Lost an ounce. But it's cool, okay? Skinny Pete's cool."

"So you're saying that your guy got robbed," Mr. White began, trying to wrap his head around the situation and only growing more frustrated when he was faced with incompetence. "Or, rather, _you _got robbed, but it doesn't matter -"

"Dude," Jesse scoffed, interrupting him. "It's called 'breakage', okay? Like K-Mart. Shit breaks."

"And you're thinking this is acceptable?" Walter shook his head, looking towards Charlie but finding her quiet as a stone. It was unusual for her to speak in such situations, so Walter didn't know why he turned to her for consultation so often.

"It's the cost of business, yo!" Jesse complained. "You're sweating me over a grand?"

"Look," Mr. White began to raise his tone. "I'm just the chemist, here. I'm not the street guy, _yo_. But it seems to me that what you call 'breakage' is just you making a fool of yourself. I've got another technical term for you. 'Non-sustainable business model'."

"You're focusing on the negative," Jesse pushed, shaking his head again. "Six grand a day we're making. What's your problem?"

"What happens when word gets out?" Mr. White ignored his statements. "And it's open season on these clowns you've hired? Once everyone knows that Jesse Pinkman, drug lord, can be robbed with impunity -"

"Man, come on," The younger kid muttered, silently pleading with the skies for a break.

"You think Tuco had breakage?" Walter mused, sarcastic for a moment but then really wondering. "I guess it's true, he did. He broke bones. He broke the skull of anybody who tried to rip him off."

"You want another grand?" Jesse became confrontational at the mention of the gangster, taking out a bundle of cash. "Is that it?"

"Not my point."

"Take it," Jesse threw the bundle at his partner. "Here."

Mr. White threw it back, fury making itself present in his eyes and causing Jesse to shake his head again in bewilderment. Was there nothing he could do to qualm this man's nerves? There was nothing left for him to do at this point beside storm into the household of Skinny Pete's arch enemies and berate them for the stolen stash. And even _that_ was a stretch without a weapon.

"Look," He began again. "You got fifteen thousand you didn't have yesterday. We're makin' bank. Shit happens. My guys get what they're up against, and they're careful. So am I. And you're all tucked in at night with your precious family – so why don't you just stop being such a freak about everything?"

"You've made the division of labor very clear," Walter noted, again bringing the subject back to where they couldn't agree.

"Yo," Jesse lay a hand on his steering wheel, growing nervous at the amount of time that was being spent out in the open. "I mean, seriously. What the hell do you want me to do, huh?"

As it would turn out later, that question had more potential in it than what Jesse had originally expected.

**|:|**

The next night, there was a knock on Jesse's door at exactly ten o'clock in the evening, and Charlie cautiously peeked out into the night wearing nothing but one of Jesse's large sweaters and reeking of weed. Upon discovering that it was merely Mr. White standing ominously on the other side of the wall, she invited him in with a large smile and promptly offered to make a meal for him. He shook his head and raised his hand, motioning to the bedroom where Jesse was buried under the covers. Understanding his motives, there was a click of the lock, and then the tiny girl went to fetch her sleeping male in the room next door. Within seconds, Jesse was out of the bedroom and facing Walter in the kitchen, who didn't say a work until he dug into his pocket in search of something.

"You asked me what I want you to do," Walter laid the Ruger Sp101 on the countertop without taking his eyes off of Jesse. "I want you to handle it."

**A/N: Well, I'm sorry if it didn't meet any expectations – I've been swamped with schoolwork (I got kicked out of my school so it's been hectic trying to relocate and catch up) but I'll try to update more often. **


	6. Peekaboo

**'****Peekaboo'**

**A/N: Sorry that I haven't updated in awhile guys – my mental health hit the rocks and things were looking bad there for a while. I had to spend some time in a mental ward and I'm still trying to wrap my head around what happened, so forgive me if things move like molasses for a bit here. Thank you so much for continuing to read, though! I appreciate all of the follows and favorites! **

**Anyhow, this chapter is incredibly short for a reason; the episode doesn't actually have a whole lot of Jesse (mostly because the entire episode is over within a day and only consists of him going to Spooge's house) so there isn't a lot of material to work with to start with. Either way, I hope you enjoy and I promise that the next chapter will be longer! :) **

Charlie let out a soft hiss as the tip of the needle penetrated the abused vein in her left arm, and she quickly unsnapped the buckle that held her arm in a tight grip. The long leather piece slid off of the bed and hit the ground with a soft _clunk_, but it was all background noise to the small black haired girl who had begun to feel the rush of the heavy opiate. Jesse had gone to take care of 'dangerous business' that day, and there had been no calls from Mr. Fring, meaning that Charlie had a free day to either mope around the house and worry or indulge in her favorite narcotic and take a day off. She had chosen the latter, and was now feeling the effects of her decision. The tiny girl was sprawled out on her and Jesse's makeshift bed, an episode of _The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air _playing loudly on their shared laptop. Charlie ended up laying there for the next five hours, fading in and out of consciousness and enjoying the addictive rush of opioids. Her sluggish demeanor stayed with her even when the high wore off, and she continued to remain peacefully disconnected from the rest of the world until a persistent knocking shook her from her thoughts.

"Ugh…" Charlie turned her head to the left, feeling as though her skull could pop straight off of her neck at any minute. The clock read that it was exactly four twenty three in the afternoon, and although it was true that the girl hadn't risen out of bed at all that day, she had no intention of answering the door anytime soon. However, at least ten minutes passed by and the knocking showed no signs of slowing down, so Charlie groggily pushed herself off of the mattress and sat up to go answer the door. Whilst trying to manage the rush of blood to her head and the task of trying to light a cigarette, she searched for a spare shirt of Jesse's abandoned somewhere on the floor. It didn't take long to find one of his Monster Energy tops that covered up to her mid thigh. She slid it on, stumbling her way to the door and gripping on to every single object on the way. She tripped and stumbled on her own two feet, but despite her blackened field of vision she managed to unlock the door only to find a concerned familiar face standing on the other side.

"'Ey doll," Skinny Pete eyed Charlie up and down, raising a brow when she exhaled in his face and gripped the doorway for support. The bags underneath her eyes were making themselves ever so present, and there was no denying the very recent track mark on her arm. "You don't look too good."

Charlie gulped loudly, wordlessly agreeing and swaying on her feet. Pete ushered her inside, locking the door behind himself and leading her back to the bedroom. It was difficult when she was hanging off of his shoulder and nearly burning him with the lit end of her cigarette, but he managed to transport her safely onto the soft covers. He tried to explained to the sluggish girl that Jesse had sent him to watch her later in the afternoon, but it didn't seem that anything Pete was saying was going to get through to Charlie. She was completely tuned out to the world around her, simply focusing on her cigarette and nodding when he entered her field of view. It was as if she wanted to get rid of him. He watched her finish her fag, disposing of the butt in the ashtray strewn next to the needle and belt close to the mattress. It didn't take a genius to know what she had been up to or what she was going to do next, and Pete found himself thankful when she began to burrow herself underneath the covers and snuggle her teddy bear.

"Alright," Pete sighed, shaking his head and lighting his own cigarette before taking a seat on the opposite side of the room. "Well, I'mma be here when your ass decides to wake up, yo."

All that he received in reply was a soft groan.

**|:|**

Although Pete had promised to Jesse that he would wait around until his friend got back from Spooge's place, it was growing dark outside and Skinny had other deals to take care of. Charlie had shown no sign of movement since nine o'clock, and he decided that his best bet was to leave _Fresh Prince_ playing on the screen and quietly slipping out. Pete did, however, go to the trouble of leaving a note on their countertop to explain where he had gone and why he couldn't have waited around any longer. So with a last quiet goodbye, Pete finally slipped out the door and into the night, only leaving the smell of a freshly smoked cigarette and a note in his wake.

When Charlie finally was shaken from her slumber, it was by a very concerned Jesse who had recently arrived back at the house. The clock now read twelve o' nine in the morning, and despite her fatigue Charlie threw her arms around her boyfriend's neck. There were no words exchanged until they had embraced for several moments, and it was Jesse who spoke first.

"The two meth heads had a kid," He began, wringing his hands in frustration. "He was filthy and didn't say a word – no matter how much they yelled."

Charlie sat up slightly, frowning once she realized where Jesse had gone the entire day. He had been retrieving the lost drug deal of the very boy who had been watching over her the entire day (a favor after having lost the deal between Spooge and his partner) and had obviously run into a heartbreaking scenario. Jesse began to explain to her the details of what had happened to him downtown, and with each development of the story Charlie found herself growing more and more concerned that the police were going to come breaking down their door any second. Considering what had happened to Spooge's head and the very fact that Jesse had called the police instead of child services meant that the law was going to be very involved in the addicts' case for a very long time. Murder always went down in the books for good, and the last this Charlie and Jesse needed was any sort of suspicion on their part.

"I don't think the cops saw me. I was gone before they even pulled down the street." Jesse rose to his feet and pulled off his outer layers, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes near their duffel bags. "I got the gun and the cash."

"What about fingerprints?" Charlie looked up at her boyfriend, watching as he lit a cancer stick and joined her under the covers. One he had her safe in his arms, Jesse shook his head incessantly and shook off her concern.

"Took care of 'em," He explained, taking a long drag. "Don't worry about it."

"Jesus – that poor kid," Charlie began to bite at her thumbnail, drawing Jesse's attention to her delicate hands. "I hope he's okay."

"He'll be fine," Jesse frowned, eyeing the bloody knuckles whilst comforting her. "But we've gotta get you cleaned up."

He pulled her towards the bathroom, holding his cigarette in between his lips while washing, disinfecting and bandaging both of her hands. She was quiet, looking up at him with wide eyes as she sat on the edge of the porcelain toilet and tried to ignore the pain of dried blood being peeled off of her injuries. She had most likely chewed them in her recent sleeping fit, and had been numb to the pain thanks to the dosage of heroin in her system. After Jesse had finished wrapping her right hand, he lay a kiss on her forehead and tossed his cigarette stump into the bathroom's ashtray. Charlie found herself being picked up bridal style and transported back to the bed, where a very emotionally and physically exhausted Jesse was winding their limbs together and already passing out. She couldn't bring herself to say anything else, so instead Charlie merely pressed a last kiss to his lips and snuggled herself further into his chest.

**A/N: Once again, I'm sorry about the length of this chapter – I didn't have much to work with and I'm pretty exhausted but I promise that I'll work hard on the seventh episode! Thanks so much to all of you that keep reading! **


	7. Negro Y Azul

**A/N: Once again, I'm sorry about the length of this chapter – I didn't have much to work with and I'm pretty exhausted but I promise that I'll work hard on the seventh episode! Thanks so much to all of you that keep reading!**

**SO2E7 – Negro y Azul**

"Jesse! Open the door! I know you're home – your car is here, come on! HEY!"

Charlie was woken by the voice of a very angry Mr. White, who's knocking at the front door was attracting the attention of their very concerned landlady. By the time Charlie shrugged into one of Jesse's sweaters and padded to the entrance of her and Jesse's home, Jane was already ready to pounce on her old chemistry teacher.

"- if Jesse doesn't want you in, you're not getting in. Sorry." Jane finished explaining to Walter just as Charlie opened the door. He took one look at her grungy state and sighed wearily, but appeared relieved once Jesse popped up behind her.

"And this is my son's lovely girlfriend, Charlie."

"I know," Jane gave him a weary glance, seeing straight through the chemistry teacher's lies. "And there's your _son_."

"Thank you," Mr. White shot the landlady an overdone smile before turning impatiently towards the two sleepy home-dwellers, who took a couple seconds to fully register the situation.

"Come in," Jesse rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "_Dad_."

Jane gave him a knowing smile, catching Charlie's eye and winking mischievously before backing into her own portion of the duplex. The three criminals retreated from the porch, intent on carrying their business back inside the house. Once inside, Walter looked positively appalled at the state of the home. There was clothing strewn everywhere; the kitchen was filthy and the high school teacher swore that the smell of pot was engrained into the walls. Speaking of which, he watched the two twenty year olds sink down onto the modified mattress they had created in the center of the living room and continue to sesh. The long glass piece was brought to Charlie's lips, and when Walter continued to speak he tried to tune out the obnoxious bubbling.

"Oh, you have a telephone at least," Mr. White narrowed his eyes. "You know that blinking thing I've been calling on?"

"Whatever man," Jesse scoffed, taking the bong from Charlie, who had been kind enough to load another bowl for him. However, before he could even begin to inhale what had been keeping him stable for the last several days, Mr. White shot across the room and ripped it out of his hands.

"Hey!" The younger boy protested, leaping towards his old chemistry teacher. "Give me my -"

"I will break this!" Walter threatened, holding the object high enough off of the ground to back up his threat and waiting until Jesse had sat back down. "I will breath this! Damn druggy idiots. Is this what you've been doing the whole time I've been trying to reach you?"

"No!" Jesse protested. "I've been taking care of business."

"What business?" Mr. White was skeptical, still holding the glass gingerly in his right hand.

"'What business'?" Jesse quoted, spreading his arms in disbelief and circling around to the kitchen counter. "The business you put me on, asshole. You already forgot? This business. Does that jog your memory? Son of a bitch."

The drawer was pulled open with a harsh jerk, and soon after a gun was placed on the island. Walter paused, taking a moment to set the bong down and acknowledge what Jesse had told him. Unable to comprehend that Jesse had shot a man at first, he began to open and close his mouth like a dying trout.

"You didn't actually -" Mr. White stuttered, turning to face the pair settled on the makeshift bed in fear.

"You said 'handle it',"

"When I said 'handle it', I mean fear and intimidation –" Walter began. "I certainly never meant for you –"

"You didn't mean to kill somebody?" Jesse grimaced. "Too late, yo, because dude's dead. All right? Way dead."

Amidst Mr. White's panicked 'Oh God's' and heavy breaths, Jesse stood and furiously made his way over to the cabinet in the corner where his counterpart's money had been stashed. Throwing the wad over to Walter and exchanging more angry words, he stomped his way back to the pile of blankets to lay a kiss on a very zoned out Charlie's cheek. As he sat Indian style rubbing a stressed hand through his hair, Jesse watched Mr. White unload the gun and check the casing for the bullets that were left over. Upon realizing that there were five, Walter turned to face the other male incredulously.

"I didn't say _I _killed him," Jesse counterattacked the silent question. Charlie flinched from beside him, beginning to rub his back. Because of the terrors he had witnessed, Jesse had been using pot to calm the memories and post traumatic shock that came with the brutal murder he had played a part in. This was all fine and dandy, but he needed spousal support just as much as he needed drugs to cope with stressful situations. So when she sensed tension rising in the room, Charlie immediately jumped into action.

"Tell me what happened." Walter demanded, desperate to know the truth.

"The dude's wife crushed his head with an ATM machine," Jesse began to explain, obviously uncomfortable.

"Crushed his…"

"-Crush his head with an ATM machine. Right in front of me. I mean, crushed it like – oh my god. The sound – it's still in my ears. You know, and the blood, like, everywhere! Like, there was so much, you would not believe – man," Jesse suddenly erupted and fetched his bong, sick of explaining and being unable to describe the situation. "Will you just please give me my weed, all right? It helps with my nausea."

"So, you did _not _kill anyone," Walter clarified, raising his eyebrows towards Jesse, who shook his head whilst taking a large hit. "Does anybody think that you killed anybody?"

"I called the cops," Jesse handed the bong off to Charlie, who grabbed more of the harmless green substance and filled another bowl.

"You called the cops?"

"I called and I split," Jesse further explained, rubbing at his eyes vigorously. "And then they came in and busted her. God – she was so zapped out of her mind. She did it for, like, nothing. He told her she was a skank, but, I mean; she was a skank!"

"Can this person identify you?" Walter tried to redirect the conversation to the responsible essentials, but Jesse merely shook his head and watched Charlie exhale her smoke in a large cloud. "Can she identify you being there?"

Jesse cleared the bowl and set the bong aside once again. "Dude, she couldn't identify her left ass cheek. She was so zonked. And she had this – God, she had this kid."

"Listen," Walter interrupted, not wanting to hear any heartfelt stories or get attached. "I'm a little fuzzy on the mechanics, here. But could you not stop this woman from killing this man?"

"Look, she had a gun on me, alright?" Jesse spread his hands, balancing his elbows on his knees and rolling his eyes when Mr. White lifted the gun in question up in the air. "Yeah, my gun, okay?! Mine – go ahead. Say it. I ain't no Tuco or Krazy-8. I can't run a crew. Come on – point made, man. Point made, yes."

Just as Walter opened his mouth to make another astute point the phone rung out in its familiar tune, making Charlie jump in surprise and grab the bong again. After three rings, Jesse's voicemail rang out and Badger's voice echoed throughout the room.

_"__It's Badger, man -"_

Someone who was clearly listening in on the other end of the phone conversation swiftly interrupted Badger, and the three could vaguely make out the male reprimanding Badger for using his real name on the phone. Most likely Combo, but Jesse had no intentions of walking over to the phone line and checking himself.

_"__What are you doing?" _The other voice complained._ "Don't use your real name."_

_"__What?" _Badger replied, indignant. _"That isn't my real name." _

Jesse rolled his eyes at his friend's ignorance and watching Charlie as she polished off her last bowl. The smoke was exhaled slowly and the glass was put away carefully, while the phone message carried on as if it was just another day at the office for the meth dealers in Albuquerque.

_"__We got those pants you wanted," _Badger spoke directly to Jesse again, unaware that his friend was listening word for word on the other end of the line. _"32 large, right? We got them just for you, jefe. Let's do some bid-ness, yo!" _

The line cut off, and once again Jesse nearly groaned at his friends antics. It was almost comical how they handled themselves in these situations, and it would have been worth laughing at if Jesse's rear end wasn't on the line because of their stupidity. There was no way of knowing who the D.E.A wanted to listen to, and with both Charlie and Jesse already in police records, the last thing they needed was any involvement with the cops at the moment.

"So," Walter sighed, voice soft. "Are you going to get back up on that horse?"

"You get on," Jesse pulled his girlfriend down beside him under the covers. "All right? I just want to forget."

After a minute of watching them tangle each other up in the bed sheets and wondering how two drug addicts could possibly be more passionate than himself and Skylar, Walter grabbed his roll of cash and made a beeline for the door, issuing himself out with nothing more than a quiet 'sorry', as he assured himself he had had enough of the Pinkman's for the day.

* * *

><p>The next time Mr. White graced Charlie and Jesse with his presence was days later, after Mr. White had met with Skinny Pete, Badger and Combo for an exchange that Jesse had been due for. The minute the door was open and the middle-aged man was ushered inside, the first complaint that came out of his mouth was that the room smelt of marijuana, cigarettes and sex. Charlie was slightly confused at the proclamation - as she hadn't been aware that sex had a certain scent to it - but it explained the strange odor caked in her nostrils that she had grown accustomed to. She merely shrugged, relocating herself onto the mattress and flicking the lighter to clear another bowl while the boys shifted towards the kitchen to talk.<p>

"Alright, now – this," Mr. White opened the map up on the same kitchen counter the gun had been laying on. "Is our territory. Here, here and here – hey! Hello?!"

Jesse had been dozing off in his position across from Walter, uninterested and clearly burning out. There was only one thing he wanted to do all day long, and it came in the form of the hundred pound moonbeam still sleeping in the middle of their living room. Charlie's work hadn't called in two days, so Jesse wanted to spend as much time with his significant other as possible before they paged her back into work. Unfortunately, Mr. White was ruining his chances of them having any fun at all, which resulted in serious grumpy mumbling on the younger boy's part.

"What does that look like to you?" Mr. White pointed at the map again, slapping it with his index finger passionately. "Opportunities. Golden ones! That's what that looks like. Look – it's an entire city full of buyers. Now, why aren't we exploiting that?"

"Because it's not our territory," Jesse clarified, rolling his eyes yet again in frustration as to why Mr. white couldn't comprehend the simple rules of the drug trade.

"Because we lack initiative!" Walter corrected, trying to spark some sense into his partner.

"_Initiative_." Jesse deadpanned sarcastically, tilting his head up to the ceiling as if it held the answers.

"You need to employ more dealers," The older man instructed. "Double, triple your crew. Those three I met – they should each have three, six, nine sub-dealers working for them. Exponential growth – that's the key!"

"It's not our territory," Jesse grew frustrated, trying to quiet his tone when he sensed Charlie growing upset behind him. Her little squeaks gave away everything, and he did a shoulder check just to make sure that she wasn't panicking. Her huddle form underneath the blankets proved she was uneasy, but he turned back to Mr. White and hardened his face. "Man, you follow me here? We go rolling into these neighborhoods, other crews ain't gonna take kindly. You understand?"

"Sure, they won't like it," Mr. White shrugged, carefully choosing his next words based off of what he had researched on the Internet. "But I say they're not gonna do a thing about it."

At this, Jesse pushed himself away from the counter towards Charlie, fully intent on abandoning the conversation there. For Mr. White to suggest that rival dealers in neighborhoods they planned on expanding to _wouldn't _do anything when they realized who was taking over their selling spots was ridiculous, and he wasn't about to risk his friend's lives just to test the waters of his ex-chemistry teacher's theory. Mr. White followed him form his spot behind the counter, and vigorously tried to re-focus Jesse. It seemed that although neither of them were in the classroom, Mr. White role was the same as it had been so many years ago in Chemistry class, eagerly trying to entice a reaction out of a drug-addled teen.

"Listen Jesse," He gripped the younger boy's shoulders. "The game has changed. The word is out – and you are a killer."

"What are you talking about?" Jesse pulled a face, scrunching his nose up in confusion and drawing the conclusion that he hadn't had nearly enough pot for this type of conversation.

"Apparently it's all over town," Walter continued, further striking anxiety in the hearts of the two twenty year olds. "Somebody crossed you. You got angry. You crushed their skull with an ATM machine."

"But that's not how it happened," Jesse argued, raising a hand in protest and blinking rapidly.

"Who cares?!" Mr. White's voice rose again, and there was a shuffle as Charlie raised herself and grabbed the bong again to deal with the stressful conversation. "Just as long as it's our competitors who believe it and not the police."

"Oh my god," Jesse raised both arms towards the sky, turning away from Mr. White yet again and placing himself next to Charlie on their makeshift bed. She continued to grind her bud, indifferent to her boyfriend's relaxed position but aware of Walter making his way over towards him.

"Don't you see how great this is?" Mr. White pushed. "Look, you are a – Jesse! Look at me. You are a blowfish."

"What?"

"A blowfish," The clarification didn't help the poor boy at all, who continued to try and sink into the mattress while the bubbling noise of the water bong trickled into his eardrums. "Think about it; small in stature, not swift, not cunning. Easy prey for predators. But the blowfish has a secret weapon, doesn't he? What does the blowfish do, Jesse? What does the blowfish do?"

"I don't even -" Jesse had flipped onto his back and was now covering his eyes with a forearm, desperate to end the condescending tone flowing from Mr. White's mouth.

"The blowfish puffs up!" Walter changed from his light, airy tone to a strong hefty one, and there was a small clink to accompany it as Charlie set down the glass piece. "The blowfish puffs himself up four or five times larger than normal. And why? Why does he do that? So that it makes him intimidating, that's why. Intimidating, so that the other scarier fish are scared off. And that's you. You are a blowfish."

Somewhere along Mr. White's little National Geographic confidence speech, something inside Jesse had clearly flipped. Whether it was the marijuana or the simple fact that he hadn't seen sunlight in a solid week, he didn't know. But suddenly he felt a large surge of positivity seep through his chest, and the comfort that perhaps the sticky situation they had caught themselves in would just somehow work out in their favor.

"You see?" Mr. White smiled when he recognized the change, almost as proud as a therapist in his first successful session with a doped up patient; excited that he had managed to converse with a druggie. "It's just all an illusion. See? It's nothing but air. Now, who messes with the blowfish, Jesse?"

"Nobody." It took mere seconds for Jesse to reply, gears turning faster than they ever had before in his head as he finally caught the gist of Mr. White's plan.

"You're damn right."

"I'm a blowfish." He reluctantly admitted.

"You are a blowfish," Walter confirmed. "Say it again."

"I'm a blowfish."

"Say it like you mean it!"

"I'm a BLOWFISH!" The male jib-head exclaimed louder than ever, causing Charlie to giggle at the two's antics.

"That's it." Walter nodded, smile fading when he realized that Jesse would have trouble recalling any part of this conversation, and that the boy was lighting yet another bowl of the THC loaded greens.

"Blowfishing this up." Jesse reached across Charlie's small form to grab the bong again, both unable to adhere to Mr. White's hacking cough. Neither of them was able to recognize that perhaps the heavyset stench in the room would have upset a cancer patient's lungs, but they selfishly continued to smoke either way. After several more minutes of Mr. White getting nowhere with the two stoners, he took his leave with the promise of calling yet again.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Jesse managed to locate both his girlfriend and his landlord seated on the steps outside of the duplex, one enjoying her morning cigarette and the other drawing in a sketchbook.<p>

"Hey," He greeted the two, coming to sit next to Charlie and wrapping an arm around her.

"You left your cave."

"Yeah, we were missing our TV," Jesse explained, rubbing his eyes wearily and praying that he still didn't reek of pot. "We were thinking maybe we'd hit Costco. Snag a big-ass wide screen. Whatcha drawing?"

Jesse leaned over, taking a look at Jane's magnificent artwork and nodding in appreciation. It was nice seeing someone still involved in that world when he had been out of it for so long. Art had been an outlet for him; something fun besides drugs to occupy his mind with on a daily basis, but he had abounded it after the drug trade had taken over his life and he had become an addict himself.

"Damn," He admitted. "That's good. It'd make a hell of a tat."

"That's the plan," Jane smirked towards Charlie, who grinned back at her. "I work part-time down at ABQ Ink."

"Right on," Jesse nodded, slipping back into his spot beside his girlfriend. "You're a real good drawer. I used to do a little of that."

"You used to be a drawer too?" Jane raised an eyebrow; surprised that someone like him would have been interested in the world of art. "What stopped you?"

"You know, just…" Jesse trailed off, unwilling to answer the uncomfortable question that forced him to relive painful memories and instead turned to ask her another one. "So, tell me something. What kind of tattoo artist has no tattoos?"

"He's got a point there," Charlie smiled at her friend, putting her cigarette out on the steps and flinging it towards the curb. "We've gotta ink you up!"

"Shut up," Jane smiled. "That's way too big a commitment."

This made Charlie laugh, rolling her head into her boyfriends shoulder and resting it there for the time being. To her, it was ironic that a landlady who's job was to basically force people into long-term contracts for houses (that they weren't sure about in the first place anyway) was too scared of the commitment it took to get a tattoo. In her opinion, just a tiny one on her ankle would give Jane a dose of her own medicine.

"Hey man!" There was sudden roar as an intimidating man in a large Chopper pulled up in front of the duplex, and yelled out towards the group of three. "You're Pinkman! You're the man! Everybody's been talking about you. Right on, man – keep it real!"

"I thought your name was Jackson?" Jane frowned up at him in confusion as the Chopper pulled away, then looked to Charlie for answers. It didn't really matter, considering the house was under Charlie's name, but Jesse had given an alias out anyway just in case any customers came knocking in the dead of night.

"Uh," He stumbled on his words. "I-I've got bad anxiety, I dunno what I was thinking. M'kind of a paranoid freak."

"That's alright," Jane shrugged, continuing on her drawing. "I'll just have to switch your name on one of the forms."

"Sweet," Jesse nodded, staring down at his beaten in shoes. "Alright, let's bounce, angel."

He pulled Charlie up beside him, who gave Jane a last giddy wave as they hopped into Jesse's car and sped off towards what was supposed to be 'Costco'. But as per usual, both Charlie and Jesse knew that he had to take care of some business with his buddies at the museum first and foremost.

Their red car was parked inconspicuously a block from the collection of historical monuments, and Charlie was instructed to stay put and eat her granola bar in silence while Jesse dealt with his three 'employees'. Charlie obeyed to one of those commands, choosing to discard of the granola bar in the glove box with a disgusted sneer. She usually didn't mind eating one of those things every couple of days to make her significant other happy, but the flavor that she had accidentally picked up when grocery shopping made her sick every time. 'Vanilla and raspberry' was _not _her first choice to combine with oatmeal, and even when she did manage to swallow the thing she would gag for minutes.

Jesse came back minutes later, sighing as the revved the engine and immediately checking all the compartments in the car to see if Charlie had hidden the food. By now he was familiar with her tactics, and just as he had suspected, the bar was sitting comfortably at the back of the glove box. He made a 'tsk' sound in the back of his throat, not angry in the slightest but merely concerned for her well being. Once they had stopped at a red light, he took the opportunity to peel open the wrapper and take a bite of it himself, and then tilted the processed food towards his girlfriend.

"It's gross," Charlie whined like a child, shaking her head and pouting. "I don't want it."

"If I get you another flavor, will you eat it?" Jesse looked at her pointedly, trying to negotiate. He had had successful experiences in the past with compromising, so he would push the tactic when she refused to eat. Charlie thought about the deal for a couple seconds before nodding uncertainly, making her counterpart smile. He nodded once in affirmation before pulling into the nearest corner store and purchasing a brand new box of cinnamon Nature Valley and their usual cigarettes. When he plopped back down in the car, he was rewarded with a timid kiss to the cheek before witnessing the love of his life begin to munch on one of the newly bought treats.

Comforted by the fact that she was putting something into her body to help fuel it, he sped off towards the nearest Costco and lit a cigarette in a small celebration. They deuced the cancer stick and hummed along to the radio, enjoying the music and relaxed time together while they could. Of course, as soon as AC/DC came on, the two's peaceful car ride erupted into a passionate and melodic sing-along. The volume knob was turned to maximum, vibrating he entire vehicle and turning heads of the drivers around them, who mostly smiled or shook their heads in disapproval. By the time they rolled into Costco, Brian Johnson's voice was fading into the distance, but their intense duo was still going strong.

"_Yeah you shook me!" _Jesse pulled into a parking space and quickly geared into 'park' so he could air guitar the final chords.

_"__- all night long!" _Charlie finished as the song cut out; head bobbing and thrusting her forearms to imitate Phil Rudd's drum beats.

There was nothing but heavy breathing for several minutes while their sickened lungs recuperated, and then the two were laughing hysterically and reliving memories of their younger days when time wasn't of the essence and all they had done was sit and listen to music all day in Jesse's basement. Those had been the high times; burning through bowls and bowls of pot whilst discovering new tunes. There had also been the occasional LSD trip or the MDMA trials, where electronic dance music had made its impact on the couple. That had also been the month they had agreed to never touch ecstasy again. Unfortunately, the gateway drugs led to the abuse of methamphetamine and heroin, and the two became forever riddled with addictions that put them at risk each day.

These darker realizations, however, were the last things on Charlie and Jesse's minds as they browsed through the endless selection of TV's at Costco and searched for the best price range that would fit their wall. Several times an employee came up to them to ask if they needed assistance, but they declined heartily and instead enjoyed themselves picking out the next piece of their living arrangement. Although they both knew that it could be destroyed in a matter of minutes with any amount of wrong steps, and that nothing was set in stone for the time being, both figured it was a fun opportunity to play house and at least indulge in their entertainment system while they could. So when they finally picked a large black flat screen television, they couldn't help but share a delighted kiss at the fact that it almost felt as if with every new piece of furniture bought, they were moving one step closer to a functional lifestyle. Realistically, they both knew that it would never be achieved at this point, but they were hell bent on at least getting some air time with the illusion of it.

In the midst of checking out, Charlie's cell phone began to blare in the pocket of Jesse's sweater causing her face to fall in concern while she fished it out. It wasn't usual for anyone to be calling this late in the day, so it couldn't be good news unless someone had found one of her items she had left with her phone number in it.

"Hello?" Charlie stomach twisted in knots as she began to doubt even answering the call.

_"__Hi Charlie, this is Gus," _Her boss's strangely calm voice seemed to nearly melted the phone, and her knees quivered in relief as she deduced that she wasn't in any sort of danger whatsoever. _"I'm sorry to do this to you on a Sunday, but is it possible for you to come in and work this afternoon? I'm running low on staff." _

"Yeah, I can make it," Charlie responded without missing a beat. She had never declined any shifts during her time of work at _Los Pollos_, so the pager arrangement that she and her employer held remained intact out of trust and reliability. After exchanging several more kind words, the phone line cut dead and Charlie had to explain the news to her boyfriend, who was now hoisting the TV off of the checkout counter.

"I really wanted to help you set it up," The tiny girl stammered, holding the back of the TV whilst Jesse opened the car. "It's gonna be hard all alone."

"Don't worry about it baby," He shoved the large black device into the backseat and circled around to her side to give her a kiss. "It's gonna be all ready when you come home."

"You really think you can figure that thing out?" Charlie raised a brow, grinning as he opened the car door for her and knocked on the hood.

"For sure," Jesse nodded to the beat of the Green Day song that had come on, speeding off in the direction of his girlfriend's workplace. "Like magic – I promise."

* * *

><p>Hours later, the couple was seated on a pair of blue lawn chairs they had purchased days earlier and were facing an empty screen with a <em>'Searching…' <em>signal on it. Jesse sighed for the millionth time as the TV made a beeping noise again, letting the viewers know that it was _'acquiring a satellite signal' _and causing Jesse to bite his lip in frustration.

"I swear there was a signal when you were at work, baby!" Jesse leaned his head back in frustration as the TV continued to glare its blue screen at the two.

"Uh huh," Charlie eyed him with a grin, forcing herself not to laugh at her boyfriend's antics. He wasn't a generally patient person, and to see him upset about something so trivial was to be expected of a drug-addled individual, but there was something in his tone that just made Charlie laugh. "I'm sure."

"It's not funny!" Jesse whined, clicking the remote uselessly towards the endless blue and taking a sip of his beer. "I wanted to have it ready when you came home."

Charlie sighed; smiling at him again and watching as he angrily loaded and unloaded the battery. He cursed at the screen several more times and then apologized for it, praying to nonexistent technology gods for satellite coverage and then turning to his girlfriend with another sigh.

"I don't know what the hell's taking so long," Jesse finally admitted, kicking the box that the TV had come in. "Come on!"

The two sat in silence, Jesse fidgeting uncomfortably and Charlie trying to contain her laughter until she grasped his waiting hand. It was there that they would sit for the better part of an hour, waiting for the signal to come on and exchanging hopeful words with the television set. And although it seemed like pure torture to the public eye, for Charlie and Jesse it was another quaint afternoon spent together, merely basking in the comfort of their safely owned property and enjoying the company. Taking the time to merely exist instead of live.

**A/N: Once again, thank you for all of you that continue to read! I see the viewer count go up and it makes my heart soar! ^.^ I'm going through a bit of a rough time right now so updating might be slow, but I appreciate all of the positive responses and I'm open to constructive criticism as per usual so feel free to drop me a review or PM! **


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